Harmony

by C. F. Bentley

They sat on the floor of the chapel, bringing the children into their circle. Penelope drew a series of palm-sized crystals of varying thicknesses and colors out of her pocket and set the array before her crossed legs.

  Jake stared long and hard at the center piece, a tall black obelisk that shimmered in the soft lighting as if glowing from within.

  He’d seen a similar one on the altar here, once, just after a funeral. Mostly all the altar crystals remained behind a locked cabinet in the altar. He’d been too busy chasing after rambunctious children to notice how different it was from the others, not just in color, but in . . . in majesty?

  Then he realized the crystal had grown in a special matrix with Badger Metal.

  He’d heard the wishful thinking of such a rarity. Pammy had told him to watch for one. If it could be grown, in theory, it should provide near instant communication across the galaxy, making the current ansibles obsolete. It would also lock on to any other similar unit like a homing beacon and reduce the chances of getting lost in hyperspace tenfold.

  With smaller ones in nav units, maybe, just maybe, ships could communicate instantaneously, fly with avian precision. Avoid taking hits in battle.

  Fifty times more valuable than Badger Metal alone.

  Taking one back to the CSS wasn’t enough. He needed the process. Better yet, Harmony needed to let the CSS know they had such a marvel. This was their ticket to writing a peace treaty on their own terms.

  Harmony and the CSS allied with these crystals guiding their fleets would keep the Marils within their own borders long enough to open a dialogue with them. If they’d listen. After so many centuries surely they needed to end this war as much as humans did.

  For the first time in weeks he allowed himself to smile. His future, all their futures, looked a little bit brighter. He just might succeed here after all.

  With his own mission, not Pammy’s, as his guiding light.

  Penelope tapped the black piece lightly. A clear, sweet tone swelled up from it, caressing the ear and the soul with comfort. It enveloped all of them in the special warmth of uniting their grief, shaping it into a tangible thing that could be molded and tucked behind the heart for storage. The emotion and the music became a necessary and manageable part of them rather than a dominant force eating away at their minds and their souls.

  Jake wished that Sissy could hear this.

  She sat with her face upturned and a faint smile on her face.

  “You fraud!” he mouthed. “You can hear.”

  She looked at him and cocked one eyebrow as if she had heard his silent words.

  Did he expect anything less from his Laudae Sissy?

  Damn he didn’t want to leave her.

  Gregor stared at the pink pills the physicians had given him. Chew two when the acid in his stomach churned and boiled and threatened to burn holes in his throat.

  He chomped through four of them. They helped. Some. Getting Sissy back into the Crystal Temple and reopening the HC would help more.

  Her actions were unprecedented. And yet well within her rights as spelled out in the copy of the Covenant that sat in the middle of his desk. It was the only document on his desk. Eighteen pieces of old and crumbling paper. The oldest copy he and the archivist had been able to find. The closest to the original.

  Strange, the archivist had known right where to find it when asked. “About time you read this, boy,” he’d said as he handed it over.

  Gregor fumed.

  Sissy had been right. Every copy of the Covenant made a few corrections. Not many. Not serious changes. Accumulated over time, they added up. The most recent copy, made by his predecessor introduced the cutoff from contact with the rest of the galaxy. The one before that introduced the asylums to remove “Loods” from mainstream society. Prior to that, mutations in the caste marks were almost unknown. Now they happened in one in ten births.

  Life changed with or without active human intervention.

  He’d used the latest Military issue machine to make an exact copy of the newest version and sent them with Guilliam and Penelope. He hoped they would tempt Sissy back home.

  Guilliam and Penelope. The thought of them together—for eighteen years—puzzled him more than the archaic language in the Covenant. From the beginning, the function and the duties of each caste were spelled out. Always Temple and Noble had been above the law, separate from the others. Their need for family alliances and life mating secondary to their need to govern and lead the people morally, ethically, spiritually, and governmentally.

  No sense separating Guilliam from Penelope now. Though he’d like to find a way to do it just to spite the man he’d trusted so completely for decades.

  What contribution to the Covenant had Gregor made? None. Nothing. He couldn’t even control the mating of his most trusted acolyte and his priestess.

  Was Gregor’s destiny to take Harmony back to the original Covenant? Possibly. That might be too shocking to explain to the masses all at once.

  He knew of one change he could make. A change more radical than all the others combined. A change that would bring Sissy home.

  He could bring Lady Marissa to trial. Have her executed. The thought of the robotic arm swinging its merciless Badger Metal sword to sever her neck sent chills all the way to his bones and upset his stomach again. To die alone, at the whim of a machine, no chance to fight back. The most hideous way to die imaginable.

  Alone. No last death ritual. No funerary rights. Ashes scattered on the open sea.

  A true deterrent to most criminals. But Temple and Noble were above the law.

  He could not order it. That would undermine everything Harmony and the Covenant stood for. A ruling elite above the law, guided by and overseen by Temple.

  That was how the High Priestess earned full veto power over the HC.

  Time had proved that people were happier when they didn’t have to deal with politics and government. They liked knowing their destiny and the meaning of their lives without having to become philosophers and scholars. They just wanted to lead their lives with minimal interference. The Noble caste governed more effectively and efficiently if they did not have to answer to anyone but themselves.

  There had to be another way to bring Sissy home.

  He bent to study the Covenant more closely. Surely hidden in the obscure language and poetic subtleties he’d find something.

  “How long have you had your hearing back?”

  Sissy kept her eyes lowered to the copy of the Covenant Guilliam and Penelope had brought her.

  “You can hear me,” Jake said. He loomed over her, standing between her reading and the light.

  She finally looked up. “Did you need something?” She tried to keep her face bland and innocent.

  “I asked how long have you had your hearing back?” His voice sounded stern, as if he were addressing an enlisted man caught with a dirty uniform. “No use pretending otherwise. I know you heard the black crystal chime. I saw it in your face.”

  “The black crystal is felt more than heard.”

  “Aha! You did hear me.” He gloated.

  “Some,” she hedged.

  “How much do you hear?”

  Almost everything. No sense in lying to him. He had a way of knowing more about her than she did herself.

  “Some,” she replied. “The chiming in my head drowns out a lot.”

  “So why keep it a secret? This should be a joyful thing.” He crouched down so that his face was level with hers.

  “I find it useful.” She tapped the pages of the Covenant.

  “A continued excuse to stay away from Harmony City. Laud Gregor must be getting frantic. The empire is grinding to a halt.”

  “Exactly.” She tapped the pages again. “I want copies of this Covenant published, released to the media. I want all of Harmony and her empire to know how far from the path we have strayed. Can I trust you to do that for me?”

  “You can trust me with your life, My Laudae.”

  “I
know that. But can I trust you with the fate of the empire?”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  She ducked her head, pretending not to hear or understand him. Not yet ready to expose the dark thoughts that crowded around her at night when all was silent, except the constant ringing in her head.

  “You heard me.” He lifted her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Why wouldn’t you trust me with the fate of the empire? You are the empire. Your life is more important than the Covenant, or the government, or even the CSS offer of peace.”

  “The CSS offer of peace. You always come back to that.”

  “I think it is key to maintaining the Covenant.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Of course.”

  But he was lying. She wanted to weep again in a kind of grief as deep as she felt for the loss of her family.

  Only this kind of grief could not be soothed by a ritual.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  GREGOR FORCED HIMSELF TO bow to Sissy. His stomach roiled and his blood pressure boiled that he, High Priest of all Harmony, was reduced to bowing to the woman he had raised to become his equal.

  She had the audacity to remain seated in an overstuffed chair set at an angle to the hearth. The Covenant forbade a single monarch. No one person had total power over Harmony.

  Except this woman, this Lood, had brought an Empire to its knees in less than a year.

  Nothing worked. Garbage piled in the streets. Banks closed. The marketplace had reverted to barter. Factories closed because Noble owners ran low on cash to pay their Workers. The Military still patrolled but arrested no one for theft or speaking their mind at the parks and community centers. They only did their jobs in cases of violence.

  And now the Spacers reported shooting down five different spy ships with Maril markings. The CSS had sweetened the offer of peace with major trade concessions as well as immediate alliance against the Marils.

  He had to get Sissy back to the capital and the government working again. No matter the cost to his pride.

  If she’d just get rid of the damned cat in her lap that seemed to occupy all of her attention. Another monarchical trait; pampering useless animals and making them more important than the Nobles and priests who ran her government for her.

  “Laudae Sissy,” he said. Oh, how that common, unsophisticated name grated on him. But he had to use it or have her turn her back on him once more.

  He didn’t bother to include Jake in his greeting. The bodyguard slouched insolently against the wall between Gregor and Sissy. Gregor had no doubt he could stop any threat to Sissy, despite his seemingly lazy posture.

  “Laud Gregor.” Sissy spoke in that curiously flat voice. By all reports her hearing had not returned. Might never return. Could she function as HPS if she could not hear the crystals chiming during ritual?

  If he could persuade her to retire due to ill health—he, or rather Guilliam, had found precedent for that—he could elevate Penelope and get life back to normal. Sissy seemed happy here mucking about with the bones in the caves. This might be her destiny.

  “I have brought you an acolyte to replace Jilly,” he said, being careful to speak each word slowly and loudly.

  She tilted her head in a curious expression. Clearly she did not understand him.

  Jake handed him an erasable tablet and a bold marker. “You have to write it down for her.”

  Grimacing at each stroke of the pen, Gregor wrote his words, big and black in a squarish printing, no room for misunderstanding.

  “No. No one can replace Jilly.”

  “But the numbers.” He hated the delay required for writing his answers.

  “The numbers are right. Harmony and her six consort gods. A total of seven. Harmony Prime and her six colonies. A total of seven. Each priest and priestess must have six acolytes. A total of seven.”

  “We can’t suddenly fire one acolyte from every P and PS in the empire.”

  “Natural attrition. Do not replace those who take ordination or reassign to other positions.”

  Gregor glared at her for several long moments. “As you wish,” he finally acceded. That gave him an excuse to get rid of Guilliam for his disobedience in forming a permanent mating with Penelope.

  “What else?” Sissy asked, almost bored.

  “I come to beg you to return to the city,”

  “Why should I?” Sissy replied after only a brief glance at the tablet. Her reading skills had improved tremendously.

  “I plan to open the High Altar. I need you to preside over the ritual,” he said and wrote at the same time.

  “Good.” She continued to look at him expectantly.

  “What? What more do you want?”

  “Is Lady Marissa still free and part of the government?” Jake asked for her. He made some curious signs with his hands, as if speaking to her in code.

  Sissy nodded her acceptance of that condition.

  “I have asked Lady Marissa to resign from the HC.” Gregor wrote the words. His head throbbed with the lie. He hadn’t asked. But he would demand it if that would bring Sissy home.

  “Not enough.” Sissy turned away from him contemplating the fire.

  “That is all I can give you. To do other would break the caste system.”

  She continued to stare at him expectantly.

  Gregor turned on his heel and stomped back to his helicopter. He had only one choice remaining if he wanted to keep the entire empire from falling apart and becoming prey to both the Marils and the CSS.

  “Laudae.” Gil bowed to Sissy. He seemed to spend more time here in the mountains with her, than doing his job back at Crystal Temple. He’d take ordination if he could stay here with Penelope and the children. Not that Penelope would agree to such a change.

  “I understand your need for justice. Lady Marissa caused me and my family much grief.” He ran his hands through his hair, wishing he could find better words, a better solution. “But bringing Lady Marissa to trial is too much too soon. You cannot break the caste system all at once.”

  “Why not? It is an artificial system.” Her voice had gained a little inflection. She still spoke overloud and relied on written words to help.

  “But it has worked well for centuries.”

  Guilliam had trouble keeping his pen strokes logical and ordered. His mind raced ahead and back again, losing its linear track.

  “If the caste system worked so well, why did you show Jake the damning documents?”

  “She’s got you there, Gil. Why did you show me? Why not leave the bones and murals a total mystery.”

  Gil noted that Jake didn’t bother writing anything anymore. Sissy seemed to understand him perfectly without aids.

  “Because I knew she would figure out the murals.”

  Sissy rose from her place by the fire. “Show me.” Without waiting to see if he followed, she pulled on outdoor shoes and a coat.

  Jake shrugged and found his own sturdy boots.

  They kept an almost comfortable silence on the trek up to the caves. Just inside the entrance, Sissy paused and drew in a deep breath, as if replenishing herself with Harmony’s bounty. Gil did the same. The close stone walls welcomed him, promised him sanctuary and peace. The wind blowing from an opening higher up the mountain, down to this narrow entrance blew away a lot of the clutter in his mind.

  “I grew up in caves very like this in the Central Mountains,” he said quietly. “This feels like home.”

  “Are there murals like these elsewhere?” Jake asked. He struck a light to a torch. The smoke drifted behind them as they negotiated the long passage to the altar cavern.

  “I have found similar ones throughout the Northern and Southern Continents,” Gil said.

  “When did you figure them out?” Sissy asked. She led them unerringly through the maze to the old cavern. The air was quieter here, below the main entrance.

  “I never did completely. But when I found the diary in the archives, I remembered the murals
and guessed much of the symbolism. I knew that you, with your deep connection to Harmony, would understand. I wanted Jake to know the truth, to guide you if you stumbled.”

  “I needed to know the truth. All of Harmony—the entire empire— needs to know,” Sissy said.

  “In time.” Gil had to press his agenda. “The caste system worked because people believe in Harmony’s path and seek an order to their existence, to the universe.”

  “The frozen embryos that became the first generation with castes had no choice,” Sissy spat.

  “The people who donated the embryos believed. They could not leave their old home, so they sent their unborn children in their place. Because they believed the teachings of the first settlers.”

  Sissy grunted something. They said nothing more until they entered the side cavern. The mural opened before them, colors more brilliant than he expected. He gasped in wonder.

  “Never have I seen anything more magnificent. All the others are smaller, damaged by time and damp. Less complete.”

  “The cave system is dry. This room was sealed, possibly by the Marils,” Jake said. “No one to damage it. Only time. Except for the modification in the corner. We still don’t know who did that or why.”

  Gil glanced briefly at the small picture of Discord at Harmony’s feet. “Whoever did that, didn’t understand the rest of the story. Wasn’t even very good at drawing.” He dismissed the crude figure.

  “Do you know how to read this?” Sissy asked. Her fingers caressed the center reverently.

  “I know to start there in the middle and end in the right-hand corner. The exact sequence, though . . .” he shrugged.

  “A spiral. In a wide oval that follows blessed Empathy’s path across the sky. Like a bird of prey gliding on an updraft,” Sissy whispered.

  “The Marils may have been the victims here on Harmony. But they are far from innocent themselves. They are birds of prey at heart. Very violent and dangerous,” Jake said. He remained by the room’s entrance holding the torch. “We believe that they feast on carrion.”

  Sissy questioned that word.

  “The rotting bodies of those they kill in battle.”

  She looked like she wanted to gag.