“Not here, obviously,” Ara replied.
“Yes, I am.” Gretchen emerged from behind the fountain. She wore the same outfit Ara did, except her robe was blue. Her gold disk gleamed brightly, and her amber ring matched Kendi’s. Gretchen was a tall woman with fair skin, pale hair, and heavy eyebrows. Her eyes were gray and her lips were a startling, heavy red. Kendi had always thought she would look good in a belly-dancing outfit.
“Good.” Ara looked at Kendi. “Is the child here in the Dream?”
“I sensed a brief presense,” Kendi said. “And as far as I can tell, no one else has sensed the kid at all. I’m the only one.”
“Keep watching. If the child turns up again, try to narrow the trail. It’ll take decades to search all of Rust. I want this wrapped up in a few weeks.”
“Unfair,” Kendi protested. “No one else could even narrow it down to a single planet in the time I did. You can’t complain that—”
“It wasn’t a judgement, Kendi,” Ara interrupted. “Just an observation. You did well. Right now, I want you two to talk the Silent on Rust. We need information, and they’re our best bet.”
“Way ahead of you,” Kendi said, mollified. “I sent my sister to scout them out.”
Gretchen shuddered. “That creeps me bad. If your little creature didn’t come back, you’d be brain damaged.” She sniffed. “Not that we’d notice.”
“Enough, children,” Ara said pointedly. “We have work.”
Kendi bowed slightly, hand on his disk. “Yes, Mother Adept. This humble Child of Irfan begs your—”
“Shut up and listen,” Ara growled. “You too, Gretchen. I want you both to sniff around the Rustic Silents, find out what the current situation on the planet is. Kendi, did you read those files?”
Kendi looked sheepish. “I’ve been busy.”
“Right. Gretchen?”
“The Empire of Human Unity invaded sixteen years ago,” Gretchen replied primly. “It conquered Rust in seven months. It dropped a bunch of bio-weapons to soften the populace and generally shot the place up until some of the powerful governments cried ‘uncle.’ Those governments were allowed to keep power provided they stomped on their neighbors. Standard Unity tactic. The holdout governments got mad at the ones that caved, which made it easier for the Unity—the Rustics started fighting among themselves.”
“I did read that much,” Kendi said in a peevish tone. He perched on the smooth lip of the fountain. “I didn’t see anything about Rust’s economy, though. Have they recovered from the Unity takeover? If they haven’t, the slave market will be really tight.”
Gretchen shrugged. “They’re still in a recession. The Unity imposes artificial restrictions on trade, and it’s siphoning away resources through heavy taxes. That hurts. I’d bet a year of your stipend—”
“Hey!”
“—that we’ll have to hunt for this kid in at least three fields.”
“Free citizens, legitimate slaves, and black market slaves?” Ara hazarded.
Gretchen nodded. Behind her, an orange thumped softly to the grass. “I just hope this kid is a legitimate slave. It’d make everything a hell of a lot easier.”
“Buying a slave would be easiest,” Ara agreed. “But we may have to persuade a free person to come with us or even track a kidnap victim through the black market. That’s where you come in, Kendi.”
“I live to serve.”
Ara rounded on him. “Kendi, I’m in no mood,” she snapped. “I barely talked us out of being destroyed by Unity security, I have to impersonate a master trader, and we have to find this rogue Silent before the Unity or one of the corporations does. I have no patience for smart remarks and slapstick jokes. Is that clear, Brother Kendi?”
Her sudden fury hit him like a slap. Kendi nodded, abashed. Gretchen smirked.
“All right, then.” Ara settled her robes. “Once we get down there, Kendi, I want you nosing around the seamier parts of town. But. Stay. Out. Of. Trouble.”
“Yes, Mother,” Kendi said meekly.
Another orange fell from the tree. It squished when it hit the ground. Kendi glanced at it in surprise. Black mold was growing on it. Kendi blinked. That was strange. He’d never seen anything like it in Ara’s garden before.
“Gretchen,” Ara continued, not noticing the orange, “I want you to check the legitimate slave markets.”
Gretchen nodded. “What’ll you be doing?”
“I need to report to the Empress,” Ara replied. “Then I’ll be pumping bureaucrats. You two get started while I’m doing that.”
“Yes, Mother,” Gretchen said.
Kendi, still staring at the orange, realized Ara was waiting for an answer and he had to scramble to remember what she had said.
“Kendi?” she said dangerously.
“Check the seamier parts of town,” he said. “Get started while you talk to the Empress.”
He was about to mention the orange when a falcon screamed overhead. Kendi held out his arm. The falcon landed, and new knowledge instantly flooded his mind. For a moment there were two of him, one standing next to a burbling fountain, the other perched on a wiry forearm.
“Did she—you—find Rustic Silent?” Gretchen asked.
Kendi nodded, and the falcon duplicated the movement. For a moment he lost his balance, then regained it as the disorientation passed. He flung his arm up, tossing the falcon to the skies. She beat her wings to gain altitude, then circled overhead.
“I’ll let her lead you to them,” Kendi said. “We’ll go through my turf, all right?”
“Why can’t you just take us to them directly?” Gretchen grumbled.
Kendi shook his head. He knew that distance had no meaning in the Dream. He knew that the need to walk to other “places” through his own Outback was purely artificial. All this his conscious mind knew. It seemed, however, that his subconscious held more sway.
“Sorry,” he said, rising. “That’s the best I can do.”
“Just make sure you conjure me some decent clothes, then,” Gretchen told him. “I’m not going on a nude walkabout.”
“Be careful,” Ara cautioned.
“I’ll make sure we’re wearing clean underwear,” Kendi said solemnly, and trotted off before Ara could reply. Gretchen scrambled to follow while the falcon flew ahead. Kendi heard a heavy sigh from Ara before the fountain disappeared behind them and he smiled quietly to himself.
A moment later, the landscape changed back to the scrubby plain. Hard heat and sunlight beat down from the cloudless sky. Kendi’s clothes melted away until he wore only a loincloth, and that only because he knew Gretchen didn’t want to see him naked. Gretchen’s robe reformed itself into a khaki explorer’s outfit, complete with pith helmet and hiking boots. They walked in silence, following the falcon toward the Silent on Rust. After a moment Kendi realized he hadn’t mentioned the rotten orange to Ara. He paused to turn back.
“Now what?” Gretchen asked, annoyed.
Kendi glanced in the direction of Ara’s garden, then resumed walking. Ara was already in a bad mood. There was no point in making it worse. He could ask her about it later.
CHAPTER TWO
THE DREAM
An empire is a prison to which not even the ruler holds the key.
—Emperor Bolivar I, Musings of a Warrior
Mother Adept Araceil sighed as Kendi and Gretchen vanished into the trees. Both of them were odd in their way. Gretchen had a mouth, and Kendi was, well…Kendi. He had some strange views. What she knew of the Australian aboriginal tribes of Earth did not quite paint a picture that resembled her best and most powerful student.
Ex-student, she reminded herself. Kendi had taken his vows to become a Brother almost a year ago, but Ara still hadn’t made the mental adjustment. He was certatinly powerful. She knew of no one else who could split his mind into two pieces in the Dream. But his attitude!
At least he’s better than he once was, she thought ruefully. It’s hard to remember sometimes.
Ara stood up and concentrated for a moment. Her mind cast out, searching for a pattern she had been given. When she found it, she willed herself to let go of her garden.
She found herself in a grand hall with polished floors of gray marble and soaring pillars. The pressure of someone else’s Dream perceptions pushed on Ara’s mind, ordering her not to dictate reality. With a deep breath, Ara forced herself to comply. It was like making herself let go of an ocean life raft. Even after decades of Dream experience, it was hard for her to give up control.
It had been pure hell keeping this fact from Kendi.
A furious tapping of footsteps clicked toward Ara, and a clawed creature the size of a small bear approached. It had a flattened head and rounded body, with furry arms that ended in stubby fingers. A silver Seneschal’s chain ringed its neck.
“Who are you and what do you need?” the creature asked. It wasn’t speaking her language, of course. Language did not exist in the Dream. Here, the Silent communicated by direct exchange of ideas. Ara’s mind, however, automatically transformed the concepts she received into language.
Ara bowed and gave her name. “I need to send a report to her Imperial Majesty. Is a Silent messenger available, Seneschal?”
The Seneschal clacked its claws on the polished floor. “I have instructions to convey you directly to her Imperial Majesty for any report, Mother Adept.”
Ara blinked, then hurriedly followed the Seneschal, who was already clicking across the hall to a great set of double doors. Ara gathered her robes, wishing she had more time to prepare. She wasn’t ready for another Imperial audience. Her knowledge of Imperial etiquette was limited, and the idea of looking the fool filled Ara with dread.
The Seneschal opened the great doors and guided Ara inside. The room beyond was midnight dark except for a dozen tiny lights floating that floated slowly about like fireflies.
“Choose anyone you like,” the Seneschal said. “The Empress awaits.”
Ara made herself reach for one of the lights at random. It—he—froze at her touch.
May I use your body, Silent brother? she asked.
I live to serve, came the reply. Count to ten that I may position myself.
Ara counted, then pushed. She found herself kneeling on a pillow. Green-blue grass covered the ground, and a fresh summer breeze wafted around her. Ara’s head was bowed low, all but touching the ground.
“You may rise, Mother Adept,” said a female voice.
Ara brought herself to a kneeling position and used the time to take stock of the body she possessed. It was a well-muscled male. Brown hair dusted his forearms, and his torso was lean and strong. He wore voluminous black trousers and a collar, the marks of a Silent slave. A thrill rippled through Ara. No matter how often she did it, she always found it incredible that her body was light-years away while her mind was here, on another world in the body of another Silent.
Ara snuck a glance at her surroundings. Her first audience with the Empress had taken place in a small room, when her Imperial Majesty had personally informed Ara, one of the Children’s most successful recruiters, that she was to lead an expedition to find the body behind the mind Kendi had sensed in the Dream. This time Ara was in a white pavilion large enough to shade two or three acres. Several slaves stood poised with food and drink while a handful of others knelt on pillows similar to Ara’s. Armed guards were posted all about the pavilion.
Directly before Ara was the Imperial Majesty herself, the Empress Kan maja Kalii. She sat on a pillow which sat, in turn, on a raised dais. The Empress was close to Ara’s height, but angular and lean, with ebony-black skin and equally dark hair piled high on her head. Tiny jewels orbited her head in lieu of a crown. Silky blue robes cascaded down her shoulders. Ara couldn’t even hazard a guess at her age. The air around both Ara and the Empress shimmered slightly, meaning Kan maja Kalii had activated a sound dampener to ensure their words remained private.
“Speak, Mother Adept,” the Empress said. “You have a report?”
“I have, Imperial Majesty,” Ara replied, and explained what had happened when the Post Script arrived at Rust. The slave’s deep voice sounded odd in her ears. “The government is surely suspicious of us, but we’ve already begun searching for the child,” she finished. “I doubt the Unity Silent have uncovered its presence. My stu—that is, Brother Kendi will look for it in the underground slave market while Sister Gretchen and I explore the legal venues.”
“Is it wise to send Brother Kendi along this path, Mother Adept?” the Empress asked. “As I recall, he is someone who sometimes—these are your words—’needs to be sat on.’“
Ara bowed to hide her startlement, though she didn’t know why she was surprised. If Ara were in the Empress’s sandals, she would have accessed every file she could get her hands on too.
“Brother Kendi has grown in the months since I wrote those words, Imperial Majesty,” Ara said. “He also has a knack for making underworld contacts, and his ability to locate people within the Dream is uncanny. He is still the only Silent who has sensed the child, after all, and he was able to narrow its location to a single planet. Not only that, he identified the child’s ability to possess the non-Silent.”
The Empress nodded. “Very well, then. I also want you to continue reporting directly to me, and not your superiors among the Children of Irfan. This child’s existence must be kept a secret as long as possible. Your skill and discretion in similar matters is why I chose you directly and I expect you will live up to your own high standards.”
Ara bowed her acquiescence. The Empress rose and began pacing the dais. Everyone in the pavillion, including Ara, scrambled to rise as well. A small tickle at the back of Ara’s mind told her that the drugs were wearing off. Soon she would have to return to the Dream, and from there to her body. Was it proper to tell the Empress this? Or was Ara expected to hang on until her mind was sucked back through the Dream and into her body? That would saddle her with a disorientation that might confine her to bed for days.
“I’m nervous, Mother Adept,” the Empress said. “Brother Kendi claims he has felt this child reach through the Dream to possess other minds, willing or not. Such a child would have the power to topple empires, including this Confederation. What if this child possessed me? Or another ruler? The balance of power between the Independence Confederation and its neighbors is delicate. One mistake could mean war.”
“Anyone would know instantly that you had been possessed, Imperial Majesty. The child would not have your knowledge or experience. It would be impossible—”
“We always thought it was impossible for the Silent to possess any but another willing Silent,” the Empress pointed out. “Who knows what else this child can do? What if the wrong people gain control of this child?” She paused. “I’ve been thinking, Mother Adept, and and I’ve decided that the safety of this Confederation is more important than the chance to…study this new form of Silence.”
“Imperial Majesty?”
The Empress sank back to her cushions, though everyone else remained standing. Her regal face was blank as stone. “If, in your opinion, this child would pose a threat to the Independence Confederation, I want you to destroy it.”
“Impossible!” Ara blurted. Then she flushed. “I mean, I don’t—that is—”
“I know, Mother Adept,” the Empress said gently. “I understand.”
Ara gathered her wits. “Imperial Majesty, I haven’t so much as struck another person since I was a child. How could I—”
“It’s no easy thing,” the Empress agreed. “But it may be necessary.”
Ara opened her mouth to protest again, etiquette or not. Then she noticed the hard brown Imperial eyes upon her. Those eyes represented over fifty billion lives. Thousands of those lives could be extinguished if someone made a bad decision. Millions of them would end if someone declared war. Ara snapped her mouth shut. One life against so many. The Empress met her gaze, let her look. After a long moment, Ara swallowed.
“Yes, Imperial Majesty,” she whispered.
“Thank you, Mother Adept,” the Empress said. Her voice was tired. “I have laid an onerous duty on your shoulders, and I take responsibility for the child’s death, if it comes to that. You are but the scalpel that does the bidding of the doctor.”
“Yes, Imperial Majesty.”
The Empress nodded. “I’m sure you need to return to your body, Mother Adept.”
A dismissal. Ara bowed and knelt on the cushion. As she let go of the slave’s body, the Empress spoke again.
“If you have trouble making this decision, Mother Adept,” she said, “think of this: what would happen if the general populace learned of a Silent who could control the unwilling and non-Silent?”
Ara found herself back in her garden. The slight dizziness was accompanied by a terrible chill. The desire to return to her body was growing steadily, but that need didn’t shut out the Empress’s last words.
What would happen…?
Ara shivered. On most Confederation worlds, the Silent were either monks in the service of Irfan or slaves in the service of the Empress. On other worlds, the Silent were treated as potential threats and hunted down with ruthless efficiency. On still other worlds, the Silent were tolerated or even respected—as long as they kept their place. True, there were equally as many worlds on which the Silent were treated the same as other “normal” professionals, but even in these places, Ara always felt a measure of underlying mistrust.
What would happen if the general populace learned of a Silent who could control the unwilling and non-Silent?
Ara knew the answer. Riots. Witch hunts. Executions.
It had happened before, had been happening since the time of Irfan Qasad. Ara had been lucky, and she knew it. On Bellerophon, Ara’s homeworld, Silence was considered a holy blessing, and most Silent ended up with the Children of Irfan. Their major striving was to train the Silent in the use of their gifts and to ensure that they followed ethical practices. Most stayed with the Children after completing their training. They taught or researched or administrated or performed the intersystem communication work that kept the order solvent.
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