by Zen DiPietro
Dr. Sparks raised his eyebrows, as if surprised by her questions. “It means that we have a mystery on our hands that might change our understanding of the very nature of mana. We need to figure out what created these specimens.”
“How? We don’t know what to look for, much less where or how to look for it. Are they related to the dead zones, or might they be elsewhere, too?”
He shook his head. “That, I can’t tell you. But based on our current knowledge, the dead zones and the specimens seem to have a relationship.”
“So how do we find out more?”
He turned away from the viewscreen to face them directly. “I could provide you with the instruments for field analysis, which Luc is ideally qualified to do. You’d transmit any resulting data to us here. I could go with you, but honestly, my team and I’ll be more use here in the lab, where we can run experimental analyses.”
Luc expressed no surprise, so Kassimeigh knew that he’d already heard this suggestion. Arc’s eyebrows had lifted, mirroring her own feelings on the matter.
He spoke up. “You want us to transmit what, now? I don’t remember even being asked to go back out there again. For a third time.”
Kassimeigh maintained her shiv face, but for Arc, that was a downright argumentative thing to say.
Until now, Ina Trewe had remained silent. “Thank you, Finn. We need some time to discuss our next steps. We’ll call on you when we’ve made some decisions.”
Knowing when he’d been dismissed, the scientist made himself scarce, casting an uncertain look at Arc before he disappeared through the doorway. When the door closed behind him, Ina focused her diplomatic skills on her nephew.
“I’m sorry, he shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that. I’d intended to ask for your help, not assume it.”
The firm line of Arc’s mouth softened, and his shoulders eased. “I’m just frustrated at this bouncing back and forth, and getting more questions than answers. I’m eager to help out, but I don’t see how yet another survey of the dead zones would help. I feel like we need to determine a particular objective.”
They all looked to Luc.
He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I’ll be honest, Arc. I don’t know that going out there would be of any use at all. I’m as frustrated as you are, and wary of blindly digging around in the hinterlands. But right now, all we have to go on is two strange things that have occurred in tandem, and we don’t know where else to look for answers.”
He pushed himself out of his chair and began to pace around the table. “If we have no other means of investigating, we’ll have to go back out there. And in that case, I’d prefer to have the best hinterlands guide in Terath, as well as Kassimeigh’s mana skill.”
Arc remained silent, and Kassimeigh wondered if he might refuse. She rubbed her hands together thoughtfully. “I find it strange that we didn’t notice the signature when we were there.”
Luc shook his head. “That area is so rife with mana, there’d be no reason at all to notice it if we weren’t looking for it. Most manahi wouldn’t detect it no matter how they tried. It’s just too minute.”
Minute or not, Kassimeigh felt she should have detected it. Because of her failure, they now faced another potentially fruitless journey.
Ina tapped one finger on the table as she considered. “Why don’t we all sleep on it? Give ourselves some time to think.”
Kassimeigh welcomed the opportunity to mull over the possibilities that the specimens had created. If she had time to think it through, she could reason out a strategy. She also wanted a chance to talk to Arc. His out-of-character behavior concerned her.
On the way out of the room, Ina invited Arc and Kassimeigh to join her and Luc for dinner. Needing some time to herself, Kassimeigh graciously declined and suggested breakfast the next morning instead. They agreed to reconvene in the morning for a meal and hopefully an agenda.
4
For the sake of convenience, Kassimeigh and Arc had taken a room at the monorail station. Behind the closed door of the bedroom, Kassimeigh sank into deep contemplation. So there was some organism that contained a unique mana signature. There was no way to tell yet if it was flora or fauna, but there had been no evidence of critters when they’d visited those places. That made flora the most likely possibility. Perhaps something like a fungus or mold. Blight occasionally cropped up within the mid-lats. But why would it happen in multiple areas? And were they looking for something that fed on the atmospheric mana, or on the plants? Or both?
Almost certainly, the plants were the food. Perhaps, then, the plants in one of those dead zones could have revealed some clues, before they’d disappeared.
She let herself consider the possibility that mana itself served as a food source. Since they’d already discovered something that shouldn’t exist, she had to allow that chance, however improbable it seemed. If something could consume mana, it might mean a risk to Terath’s mana supply. Consumption didn’t necessarily mean depletion, but if it did, might they face a mana shortage? Either way, the hinterlands required conservation efforts. The wilderness played an important role in the planet’s ecology.
Kassimeigh came to a standstill in logic. Without additional facts, she could theorize no further. No doubt this was the same stumbling block that Luc had struggled with. It was useless to create a string of suppositions with no truth tying them together. She didn’t know if she should side with Arc in his opposition to another survey mission, or if their lack of information made it inevitable. Logic dictated that in the absence of a viable alternative, they must pursue the only option they had.
But she had faith in Arc. If his gut said that another survey would prove fruitless, then there must be some possibility they’d overlooked.
She left the dim bedroom and joined Arc in the main living space of the small suite. She found him in front of the comm panel, just as she’d left him. Except he hadn’t been smiling so broadly then. He seemed quite pleased with himself.
“Score yourself a great deal on a new bow?”
He turned the full force of his smile on her. The spark in his eyes loosened a knot in her chest that she hadn’t noticed until just now. Somehow he could always disarm her with a simple smile. Even when she didn’t realize she was armed.
“Nope.”
“Hmm. Found a new shoot-em-up-type game to play?”
“Nah. No games. Nothing at all to do with bows or arrows. I do have other interests, you know.”
“Really? And I’m only learning this now? Well, I give up, what are you smiling about?”
His smile only grew. “Not telling.”
She decided to play along, if for no other reason than to keep him smiling. “It’s nowhere near my birthday so it can’t be a surprise party.”
“It’s always a good day for a surprise party. But no. Could not be more off base.”
“All right. Don’t tell me then.” She seated herself on the couch beside him, edged him over, and punched up her communiqués on the comm panel. A thought occurred to her. “Did you get a message from someone?”
“Yes. Lots. I’m very popular.” He tilted his head and smiled with false modesty.
“I mean someone specific. Something that made you so pleased with yourself.”
“Well, I’ll tell you. But you have to give me something in return.”
She made a rude snorting sound. “What is it you want?”
“Can you make me two inches taller?”
She laughed. “Maybe. But I’m not a doctor so I’d never try and I wouldn’t do it anyway. I like you the way you are.”
“Now that’s good news.” He patted her head as if she were a well-performing schoolgirl. “So here’s a little more. I got a message from Élan, who’s invited us to one of those group concerts she was talking about. A song circle, she called it. Out in the hinterlands.”
“When?”
“Evening after next.”
Kassimeigh remained silent for a moment while she c
licked pieces into place. She knew him. Knew how he thought. “You think she can help us find out more about the mana organisms.”
“Maybe. I think if anyone can help us learn more, it’s her. She’s spent time in those mana areas, and she saw the deforestation while it was in the process of happening. Plus, she has a particular mana sense that might give her some insight. You’re a mana pro and all, but it never hurts to get a second opinion, right?”
“I thought you were opposed to going back to the hinterlands.”
“Not in principle. I just think we need a new approach. We’ve already scraped around in the dirt, and doing it again isn’t likely to get us anywhere when we don’t know what we’re looking for. I think talking to Élan could put us on the right track.”
“It did occur to me that if we could study the plants being consumed before they disappeared, maybe they’d give us a clue. Élan witnessed that process, so maybe she could help us find one of those spots in the early stages of decay.”
He planted a noisy smooch on her forehead. “Now that’s my girl.”
She lifted an eyebrow at him.
“Woman,” he amended quickly. “Genius. Badass.”
He winked and she laughed at him.
“Then we’re headed for the hinterlands after all,” she observed.
“Yep.”
“You couldn’t have found a reason for us to have to go back to the fortress?”
“Is that what you’d rather?”
“Definitely.”
“Sorry.” He didn’t seem very sorry.
“Right. Okay, then. I’ll leave provisions to you, since that’s your thing. I’m going to bed. I think I’m going to need all the rest I can squeeze in before we leave.”
“Is being in the forest that tough for you?” he asked with a note of surprise.
“It presents its challenges, but no. I meant the bards. Energetic late nights and tons of chatter are the norm for them. Talk, talk, talk. They’re only quiet when they sleep.” She sighed.
“How do you know that?”
She held her arms up in a “ta-da” gesture. “Grew up in a cabal. Nothing but creative, artistic types. They keep terrible hours and spend a lot of time socializing.”
Arc’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, that sounds—” He studied her dire scowl and changed his tone. “Awful. Terrible.” He made a face. “Ew.”
Kassimeigh shook her head, smiling. “That’s okay. It’s not my kind of thing but you don’t have to pretend you won’t love it.”
“Okay, then. Woohoo! Bring on the bard party.”
As it turned out, Ina and Luc were quite amenable to the change in plan. Of course, field testing remained the fallback, but they both looked hopeful. Luc even smiled. Perhaps domestic bliss was softening him up.
Arc enjoyed a nice breakfast with them and Kassimeigh. Afterward, he shared some rare leisure time with the love of his life. They window-shopped at the abundance of stores in Capital, then people-watched while they debated which way to refer to the city. He argued for “Capital” though he sometimes used the other phrases. She believed “the Capital” was better in most cases. They both agreed that “Capital City” should be reserved for maps and formal occasions.
Finally, they loaded a cart and headed out to the hinterlands. Though he enjoyed the forest, he had to admit that the back-and-forth travel via the cart had become tiresome. Being among the giant trees was one thing. Rolling slowly over many miles of land was another. He felt a wistful yearning for the efficient speed of the monorail. And maybe a home, with a reason to stay there.
Hours later, the song circle proved to be worth the drive.
Kassimeigh’s description of the event had done little to convey the reality of it. Arc found himself awestruck by the scene before him. A hundred or more musicians and performers had arranged themselves across a makeshift amphitheater, just at the forest’s edge.
Pairs and trios and semicircles of a dozen scattered across the ground. Some listened, some played music, and others danced. One big guy lay snoring loudly while a couple others carefully painted a colorful psychedelic pattern on his face. If he hadn’t previously consented to that, and Arc doubted that he had, the dude was going to flip out when he glanced in a mirror.
Several tall, modular lamp posts had been erected at regular intervals, filling the space with ample lighting and extending into the trees, where he saw numerous tents already installed.
Dozens of different tunes wafted past Arc’s ears, intermingling and disentangling, rising, ebbing, and otherwise wrapping themselves around him in a web of sounds. The gathered clusters of people constantly shifted, adding and losing members so that the groups were in perpetual flux.
“Wow,” he breathed, then noted Kassimeigh’s obvious lack of awe. He supposed she must be accustomed to the sounds and sights of such a gathering. But to him the group was as interesting to watch as it was to hear. Some of the bards dressed flamboyantly in bright colors and elaborate hairstyles while others looked as though they had recently climbed out of a garbage can.
“So you grew up with this sort of gathering,” Arc observed.
“Yup. Just like old times.”
“If it were me, I’d probably be all nostalgic and sentimental about it. Might even cry a little.”
She arched an eyebrow at him and smirked. Given her previous solemnity, he preferred the smirk.
“This isn’t my life. There’s nothing to cry about.” She considered the scene before her with indifference.
A rueful smile curled the corners of his lips. “It was your life, and it would have been if events hadn’t prevented it.”
Her smirk faded to a thoughtful frown and he waved away his musings. “But I’m clearly a sentimental fool.”
“Do you wish I were wistful about my past? I must seem boring to you sometimes.”
Damn. He hadn’t meant to imply that. He clasped his hands behind her neck so he could aim every bit of his sincerity at her. “I’ve never wanted you to be anything but what you are. And you’re lots of fun. Never boring.”
She smiled, and he wrapped her up in a hug. He was just about to do something idiotic, like launch a tickle attack, when they were interrupted. Which was really too bad, because he didn’t even know if she was ticklish. He tucked that thought away for future testing.
“I could leave you alone if you’d rather.” Arc recognized the voice before he located the speaker.
“Élan. Good to see you again.”
“Same to you, Arc.” Élan’s gaze shifted to Kassimeigh. The two women had met in the forest, but hadn’t observed social niceties at the time. In fact, Kassimeigh might still be annoyed by the fact that Élan had tried to use mana against her just a couple weeks earlier.
“Kassimeigh here is the love of my life.” He let a note of warning ring in his voice. He liked Élan and it would be unfortunate if she landed herself firmly on Kassimeigh’s “don’t like” list.
Élan’s prickly demeanor melted and transformed into a radiant warmth. Her gray eyes sparked with understanding. “Aha. I see now. And you’ve both come to enjoy our drum circle.” Arc could tell that Kassimeigh found Élan’s free-floating attitude suspicious.
“You called it a song circle before,” Arc pointed out. He hoped the women could put aside their differences if they all focused on the present.
“It’s just a phrase. Drum circle, song circle, jam session, improv, concert. Just a group of bards cutting loose and being ourselves.” Élan waved her hands to indicate the entire gathering. “It’s as much a social gathering as anything else. Actually, no, it’s more of a social gathering than anything else.”
“Is it the norm to paint people’s faces when they’re asleep?”
“Someone was dumb enough to fall asleep out in the open? Hah. Yeah, he’s lucky he’s just getting a paint job. I assume it was a guy? The girls are too smart to risk it. I should tell you about the time Brannin got drunk, passed out, and woke up snuggled against Dray.
A very large, strong kind of guy.”
“So . . . ?” Arc trailed off questioningly.
“Dray played along, and Brannin was just glad he didn’t get his head caved in. He does a much better job of monitoring his alcohol intake now.” She chuckled.
“Sounds like we’re in for an exciting time. We’re hoping, though, you could find some time to talk with us about those deforested spots.”
“Still chasing those? I did suspect you weren’t here just to hear me sing, so I guess that answers that. I don’t know what I can tell you that you don’t already know, but sure. I’ll open the performances in just a bit, then we can talk.” A thought seemed to occur to her. “Why didn’t your older friend come? The other manahi. He wanted to slice my brain up and figure out how I use mana.”
“That’s . . . graphic. He’d never hurt you. In fact, the reason he didn’t come is that he thought his presence would make you uncomfortable.”
“Hmm. I suppose that’s one point in his favor. Well, come on in, I’ll introduce you to my best friend Sim. He and I have been playing together since we both started in music.”
“How long ago was that?”
Élan considered. “We got serious about it when we were barely teenagers.”
“Was he involved in ‘Realms’? You were a teenager when that song came out, right?”
Élan looked like she’d suddenly smelled something offensive. “Sixteen. And he wasn’t directly involved. He was smarter than I was. I wanted to help a friend who was trying to break into the digital music business. I quickly realized my mistake but it was too late. What can I say? I apologize for everything I ever did as a teenager.”
“Why? You made a beautiful song that people loved.”
“The problem with fame is that people who know your face think they know you. They think their ‘relationship’ with you goes both ways. It gets old very, very fast. All I ever cared about was making music. Live performance evolves, becoming a different thing every time. There’s a connection between the performer and the audience. Digital media is flat and lacks soul. It’s just a moment trapped in time, like a bug in a jar. It was the worst mistake of my life to let myself get imprisoned like that.”
