by Holly Barbo
Quin stirred and began to collect the now empty dishes. “You still don’t know who the third host is. I’m confident the Goddess will guide us but, meanwhile, perhaps Jordan can get you some clothes for that role. M’nacht and Jordan can figure out how to get you a position in the building.” He looked over to his lifelong friend. “I think you could safely contact Dylan now.”
M’nacht got up and walked to the dash-key. “I’ll have him pass on a message to Jordan about laborer clothes and getting a job for Kes. This will need his finesse.” Walking over to the dash-key, M’nacht typed in Dylan’s secure code number then, after a pause, proceeded with the rest of his message.
Pendulum
It was with a lighter step that Dylan entered his office. He didn’t want to tell his staff about the dash-key message he’d received last night. Not yet. Many people knew they worked for the man who was loved and respected in Therad. M’nacht’s disappearance was a continued source of concern on the streets and in the newspapers. Just this morning, while walking to work, he’d heard a paperboy hawking his newspapers by yelling the headlines, “Shaman Suspect in M’nacht’s Disappearance!” If his researchers visibly relaxed and smiled a lot, someone would notice. Besides, he wanted to hear what M’nacht’s messenger had to say.
He settled into his office and reviewed the reports his team had compiled. There had been some headway about tracing the source of contributions to the council. They hadn’t been able to unravel all of the threads but many appeared to be linked to Chemedco family members and those moguls who owned the steam utilities as well as a few manufacturers. All in all, it was beginning to look like the monetary influence was from only four or five sources. Every bit of their findings was double-and triple-checked and confirmed ninety percent.
The newspapers and specific reporters were also being studied. Dylan wanted to know who had completely bought into the propaganda that was being spewed out to the citizens. It was his hope that there was a publication that would be willing to see another point of view. Right now, a couple seemed possible.
Mikla was still out, checking all of the moon’s archives. He expected her back in the office before the end of the week. She contacted him every day and her dash-key message had come in a half hour before M’nacht’s. There was information to exchange.
It was midmorning before Dylan saw a man come in carrying a small package and a couple of large fat envelopes. He stopped at the desk nearest the door and Oshe spoke to him, then directed the courier back to his office. Dylan waved him into his office, then shut the door.
“I’m Jordan. You can confirm who sent me by looking in the box.”
Dylan studied the messenger a moment before bending back the lid of the package. A small smile touched his lips when he saw the moon pearl blossoms. He gestured to a chair and took a seat himself. “You can’t stay here very long. Tell me what I need to know and I can arrange another time we can get together.”
With a nod in agreement, Jordan began. “M’nacht and Quin are safe as he’s recovering. Coincidentally, Kes is there too. At this time, he just wants you to meet me.” He handed the office manager a small piece of paper. “This is my dash code. When you have information for me to pass on, leave a message there for a parcel pick-up. Please memorize it and destroy the paper. He wants you to continue what tasks he set you on. Anything you want me to tell him?”
Dylan read the slip of paper. He then lit a match and burned the tiny piece. “I got a brief message last night that you were coming. This is what he needs to know now. We’ve tracked the contributions to the Council and some newspapers to about five sources. Most of our governing elders are unduly compromised but there may be a few that could be open to reasonable counter-information. The same can be said about the newspapers. I can go into specifics at a later time. A critical piece of information that he needs to know came to my attention.” Dylan outlined what Mitch had discovered about the designer water project. When he finished, a very grave-looking Jordan stood.
“I must go.”
As Dylan got up, he relayed the cryptic message he had received from M’nacht the night before. “He needs you to bring laborer’s clothing when next he sees you and asks if you could secure a place for a worker, perhaps a janitor, for the old science building, and that person will need to have a place to sleep when they’re not working.”
Jordan bobbed his head as Dylan opened the door. He touched his hand to his hat in respect as he said, “Thank you, chief, for the kronot tip. I’ll be happy to be a delivery person whenever you need me.” With that, he made his way past Oshe’s desk and out of the office.
Sh’ar closed the bedroom door with unnecessary care. William’s fever was so high he was completely unaware. She could have slammed the door and he wouldn’t have known. The young woman had dark circles under her eyes. She had hardly slept in days. Her husband’s condition was very worrisome, and she had been bathing his body with cool water and giving him the medicines the physicians had left her but nothing seemed to help. Her maid had urged her to rest but that seemed impossible. She conceded that if he awoke, one look at her might send him into relapse, so she had settled into the warm bath that had been drawn for her. It wasn’t William’s condition that was preoccupying her thoughts. Sh’ar was also thinking over her afternoon at the shrine.
She loved the peaceful place with its fascinating gate and the quaint caretaker’s cottage and garden. Sh’ar had visited there several times and knew Bareed and Sola by name. But this time was different. No pilgrim had been there, and it allowed her to have a conversation with the two. Sola, who was about her own age, had served her some of the sacred nectar. She had taken a sip and closed her eyes, sending a silent prayer to Navora as she savored the drink. It was at that moment that Sola had quietly asked if she still carried the small navorite. Sh’ar had almost choked in surprise! Her eyes had sprung open and she swallowed with a gulp.
“What? How did you know? My mother gave it to me on her deathbed, and I always have it with me. I can’t bear to leave it behind, and I’ve tailored my clothing to have a special secret pocket for it.” She reached into her embroidered corset and pulled out a small navorite that fit into the hollow of her palm with room to spare. It was whole, uncut and ribbed, with an iridescent outer layer. “My great-grandmother had given it to Mother. She had inherited it from her mother unexpectedly after she had died in a rock slide. It had been sewn inside her favorite toy with a note. She hadn’t discovered it for years. It has been a sort of deep secret in our family. My grandmother doesn’t even know of its existence… so how did you?”
Sola touched her hand in reassurance though her words didn’t calm Sh’ar. “The Goddess told us. You are host to a very special navorite. It’s one of three sacred Sunstones.”
Bareed had gone on to explain by telling her the true creation story and that it wasn’t until all three had hosts that the sacred artifacts awaken. “They, and their hosts, have a secret duty to perform for Myrn. They only activate when the moon or its people are in crisis,” he paused and gave her a soft but sad smile, “like now. You came here because of your beloved William, but there is more that’s wrong, isn’t there?”
Sh’ar had nodded, thinking of the closed businesses, the tattered look of the people, the building unrest… and the growing wealth of her family and friends. Then there was Tommy and the conditions surrounding his death. “I have many questions. Can you answer them?”
“Some, perhaps, but you could ask the Goddess.”
She had pointed at the unique archway. “I’ve put my prayer there.”
But Sola had shaken her head. “As a host, you can sit at her sacred pool. Go there. She might show you some answers.”
Sh’ar shifted in her warm bath water and relived the visual images that had appeared in the golden surface of the water. She had seen William waken but wasn’t sure if he was cured. She hoped that’s what the scene had meant. There had also been a building which she’d recognized as the old s
cience building in the Four Corners near the wealthier sector. In the water’s surface, the picture had wavered to be replaced with the form of a sculpture. The young woman would need to look for that. The last thing the Goddess had shown her was an image of a young man which morphed into an old man then back again. The whole experience had been incredible!
After Sh’ar had emerged from the sacred grotto beyond the gate, she had shared the visions with Bareed and Sola. All had agreed that she needed to go to the science building and look around but to not assume the task ended there. As to the faces, Sola had explained they were the two other hosts and had given her some of the story. Sh’ar had heard of M’nacht. His beating and subsequent disappearance had been in the newspaper. There had been a mention of Kes possibly being responsible and sought for questioning. Now she knew that wasn’t true and he was probably in hiding. Everything about the afternoon was secret, yet she knew she had an important, possibly dangerous, task to complete for her world. The answers had only raised more questions.
Setting that aside for the moment, Sh’ar rose from the bath and dried off. William was holding his own but not getting any better. She wanted to see her grandmother and check with the progress in the labs about the possible antidote.
It didn’t take long to dress and, within minutes, the young woman was starting the boiler in the steam car. As soon as the gauge indicated the proper amount of pressure, Sh’ar slipped on her goggles and tied her bonnet strings beneath her chin. With care, the gears were engaged and the little car flew down the street. As she paused at an intersection to let other vehicles pass, she couldn’t help but notice there were more people milling about and they looked worn, dirty and hungry. They also eyed her car and some began to walk toward her. Uncomfortable with the situation, Sh’ar quickly put the sleek steam car into gear. The chuffing engine didn’t drown out the taunts and jeers of her pursuers. Unnerved, she didn’t stop again until she pulled up to the Chemedco offices.
The guard tipped his hat to her as she powered down the boiler. Leaving the goggles on the seat, she straightened her corset and, holding the bonnet ribbons in her hand, entered the company’s majestic foyer. Sh’ar walked slowly toward her grandmother’s office, partly to calm herself, but also because she began seeing the large room with fresh eyes. The magnificent opulence was something she was used to and was almost invisible to her, but how would it look to the people who struggled to eat? Would they admire the beautiful veined stone work and the faceted crystal aether lamps? She knew some would. But there were others who were too desperate and had gone through too many terrible tragedies. Sh’ar stopped in the middle of the stairs and leaned on the polished bannister for support to take great calming breaths. Those people wouldn’t see beauty but would regard the hall as a symbol of things wrong with Myrn’s society. Shaking away the thought, the young woman approached Ver’in’s door.
Before she could knock, her grandmother opened the door. “Oh, your timing is as good as a wound clock, granddaughter! I was just going to the labs. Come with me and we’ll talk on the way.”
“Did the doctor report back to you? William has the new illness. The people are calling it The Blight because of how those stricken seem to wither with the fever. William has medicine and care, but he is aware of nothing around him. Are our lab people making any progress with a cure?”
“You can ask them yourself. I’ve been pressing that same point ever since you were here last.” The old woman shook her head. “They are trying. I know it. And they are aware of the gravity of the situation. They have families, too, who are at risk.”
Ver’in and Sh’ar stopped in the outer chamber and slipped cloth booties over their shoes, and put on lab coats. Just before they stepped into the lab, they donned head coverings and face masks.
The head researcher looked up as they entered. “Lady Ver’in, I can’t work any harder or faster, even if you come by twice a day! The contrary thing keeps mutating!”
“Ben—”
Sh’ar interrupted her grandmother, “We’re not here to harass, Ben. My husband William has The Blight. What do you need: blood or saliva samples? Do you need an extra set of hands? I have my degree and could assist you. If you wish, I can go over your notes. Anything I can do to help, I’ll do.”
The head researcher closed his eyes and nodded. “I apologize for snapping at you. Yes, I could use more blood samples. Even with our safeguards and efforts to avoid contamination, you could get infected working here.” He pointed to a small office at the far end of the room. “It would be helpful if you could go over all of our research notes. Perhaps a pair of fresh, knowledgeable eyes could see something we missed. But I must insist that you limit your time here to only three hours a day. I don’t want you getting exhausted and increasing the chance of becoming ill yourself. And wear sterile gloves!” Dismissing the visitors from his mind, he turned back to his interrupted tests.
Sh’ar patted her grandmother’s arm. “I’ll be very careful, but I have to help. Get him more blood samples. William can spare some but I’m sure you can get more from the health centers.”
“I’ll get him samples. And granddaughter, I want you to check in with me before you leave the building at the end of your three hours every time you’re here. Understand?”
The young woman nodded and made her way to the office in the corner. Closing the door, she studied the chaos of papers that covered the desk and spilled onto the floor. Glancing around, she spotted a clockwork timer and set it for the promised interval. Let’s see how much I can organize in three hours!
Cogs and Gears
It was twi-evening of the appointed day when Jordan’s car chuffed up the road to the remote annex. The storms had subsided and the air smelled as if it had been scrubbed clean. The compactly built man shut down the engines of the vehicle, which gave a hiss as it quieted. He’d need to add water to the boiler before he returned. Loading his arms with bundles, he made it to the door of the building and kicked it a couple of times as a form of knocking. It wasn’t long before he could hear the gears of the lock moving, and the door was opened by Quin.
Leaving most of the boxes in the kitchen, he joined the group assembled in the study. Settling into a chair, he tossed a bundle to Kes. “There is some troubling news.” He handed a few newspapers to Quin. “I’ll let you read these at your leisure, but let me give you the highlights. The unrest builds. I’m afraid the riots we’ve had are small compared to what’s coming. The illness is affecting more people. They’re calling it The Blight. There is no medicine that is of any help, so people are wasting away.”
He nodded toward the young man as he went on. “Some anomaly that Kes found in the Okamak caused his boss to go and investigate. As luck would have it, he was there just at the right time to witness the cause.” Jordan explained the series of events and what Mitch’s scientists had surmised.
When he paused for breath, Kes burst out with, “A manufactured pathogen? Why? That’s insane!”
Jordan raised his hand. “We don’t know for sure if it is deliberate. The dumping is definitely purposeful and the fact that it has been going on for quite a while does lend credence to your assumption, Kes. But why?”
M’nacht was pale when he spoke. “Wonder if they thought they could profit by an illness? If they had a cure, they could ask any amount of money and would receive it. But you say there isn’t an antidote. That leads me to think perhaps there was an unexpected flaw to their plan.”
The silence following his statement was broken when Quin whispered, “Who are ‘they’?”
Looking down at his hands, the injured man sighed. “My guess would be Raj’t of Chemedco. I know his mother, who is the owner of the company. The business was smaller and came through her bloodline. Her husband managed the business and took her guidance. When he died some fifteen years ago, Raj’t took over control. He’s single-minded in building the pharma corporation into a powerful entity. There is nothing wrong with wanting a stronger business, and weal
th provides a cushion. We all want that. But when the company’s interests are not aligned with those they serve, in this case, the citizens of Myrn, and their only interest is to make as much money as they can, perspective gets lost. What’s happening with some of the larger companies is a view that the amount of money they have reflects their worth. It becomes a gnawing thirst. They need more kronots… feel they deserve it as they are smarter and better than people who have less. What develops is a callous disassociation from the people who work for them or who are their customers. Nothing matters except for making more wealth and power.” He looked up into the silent faces. “Not all companies and wealthy families are like that. I’ve seen this trend and have done nothing to curtail it.” He shrugged, defeated. “What could one man do? I asked myself. I became a liaison to the Council but it was like a whisper in a tornado. Now we have The Blight without a cure, hopelessness and riots.”
Kes leaned forward and, grasping the frail hand, rubbed his thumb over it soothingly. “We’re not done yet! Is it because these are chemicals being dumped that you suspect Chemedco?”
“That and what the chauffeur reported to Jordan about Chemedco and Therad First Financial. Also, I’ve seen how that company has changed under Raj’t’s leadership. If I’m correct, and I may not be, this was a plan to make people sick, then bring out an antidote. The idea must have gone wrong when the medicine they developed didn’t cure, and now the illness is getting out of control. Knowing the woman as I do, I’d wager his mother, Ver’in, knew nothing of this.”
Jordan shook his head at M’nacht. “I haven’t given up on you, old man. You’re tired, so you’re not yourself. You have more tricks to play yet, and the Goddess willing, we’ll pull this off. You haven’t forgotten the Goddess, have you? Yes, the news is grim but this is far from finished.”
He pointed to the bundle that lay forgotten at Kes’s feet. “I have a job for this young man. It will be hours of menial, dirty labor, but I think if he’s anything like his adopted father, he won’t mind and will be very useful.” He gave Kes an appraising look. “I’ve seen some pictures of you being circulated. You don’t look like that anymore. Even with those braid tufts undone, the stuff used to lighten and stiffen the plaits have left your hair curly and streaked.” He reached for the bag and, pawing through it, brought out a stained bandana. It was clean but didn’t look so. Standing, he twisted it into a roll and wound it around Kes’s head so it formed a sweatband across his forehead. Jordan stood back and surveyed his work. He raised one eyebrow at M’nacht and Quin. “What do you think?”
