Ancestors curse the Drain for taking more of his notes! At this rate his song would be reduced to nothing, and him to a mere husk. His song had only begun to grow from his losses piloting the Methiemum shuttle. He needed rest, to recuperate and experience more life to fill his song again, though full healing would take many cycles.
Mhalaro emerged from the portal next with his case, followed by Caroom and Inas. The others had fallen a few steps behind.
The open portal rippled as moments dragged on. The majus who opened it had to be the last one through, but it would tax Rilan’s strength to hold it open so near the Drain. He watched the hole in the air. How far away were Sam and Enos? He hadn’t looked back in—how long? He had been keeping the measures describing the temperature from collapsing into low notes and silence, but he still should have been looking after the two. His apprentice was fragile, but had the potential to be a great majus someday, if his current control of the Grand Symphony was any indication.
Mhalaro tapped a foot, and Inas wrung his hands, staring at the portal. Origon ran his nails down the front of his robe, trying to keep his crest flat, maintain the calm that Caroom exuded. Was the portal entrance shrinking? Was it being deconstructed by a Drain? No use worrying the others. He swallowed.
“Where are they?” Inas finally asked. “Where are Enos and Sam?”
Origon pushed away from the fence. “They will be appearing momentarily.” That didn’t sound reassuring even to him. “The portal is still open, so we can be sure Councilor Ayama is alive and well. She will bring them through.” The portal would not be open much longer if it continued to shrink at this rate. Origon clenched one hand.
“I saved the sample you took,” Mhalaro said unexpectedly. “I left expensive material there, but I saved the last sample, and my masseous spectrum-analyzer.” He hefted his case. “I may have missed a variable—I processed the sample in a rush.” The scientist was babbling, his words running together. “Maybe I will be able to tell you something else once I get back to my lab. I can run more tests there, find out if I missed anything else.” He cut off suddenly, shifting from foot to foot, looming over them.
Origon nodded absently and watched the shrinking portal, praying to any of the ancestors that Rilan’s white and olive did not wink out. It was wavering, like a puddle of water someone stepped in.
“This one believes it may be time for these here to begin, hmm, worrying about the councilor,” Caroom rumbled. Even they were tapping one set of beefy fingers against their leg.
“You may be right,” Origon answered. He forced his hands open. “Can we make a portal back to her location? I was unable after the Drain on Methiem’s moon changed the area.”
“Shall these ones try?” Caroom asked.
Origon nodded at the Benish. He let the Symphony flow through his mind, trying to tie the music of this place to that of Dalhni. His very song ached at the repeated abuse.
Before he could mesh the two melodies, Rilan stepped through the portal and it closed behind her with a pop. Little creases around her mouth smoothed away when her notes returned. Origon stared at her, and she stared back, white faced. If he reached to help, would she pull away?
“What about my sister?” Inas asked. “What about Sam?” He was halfway to the councilor when she held up a hand, let it drop back to her side.
“I couldn’t find them,” she said. “Came through just before the void would have collapsed my portal.” She shivered. “It was close. Very close.” She pitched forward into Origon’s arms, unconscious.
* * *
Rilan awoke at Ori’s apartment, lying on his horrible off-green couch. When she grimaced at it and tried to sit up, a long-nailed hand gently pushed her back. She was surprised at how little effort it took. Ori was beside her, Caroom leaning against the far wall.
“Our apprentices,” she said. It was immediately followed by a vision of cloth and flesh, a body face down on the cold ground. She gulped back a scream that rose from the bottom of her diaphragm. No time now. The apprentices had to be alive.
Ori shook his head. “Still gone.” His eyes were hollow. “Neither I nor Caroom were able to be going back to Dalhni. The surrounding area had been changed too much for the portal songs to merge, just as with the others. We will have to be waiting until another of the House of Communication travels from there and communicates the new geography. We should not have left them.” Ori opened his mouth again, then closed it.
“What is it?” Rilan’s vision blurred with tears, but she stared defiantly back at him. Ori was hiding something. He was a terrible liar.
“You are needing more rest. I cannot be troubling you now.” His crest was drooping, his face as concerned as it ever got.
She struggled against his hand until she got to a sitting position. “Spit it out.”
Ori sighed, and glanced at Caroom, who did a fair approximation of a shrug for a being with a neck as thick as their head. “You have received a summons to appear in front of the Council this afternoon.”
Was that all? She thrust down the tightness clenching her chest and throat. She had expected something else to add to the mountain of guilt pressing her down. “Yes. I’ll have to give details of the void. The Council must vote on the new member, as well. There are probably some other minor issues—”
Ori was shaking his head, his crest flattened out in agitation. “Not a summons to appear with the Council, but before it.” He looked to her, looked away. “They were very specific.”
Rilan sat straight up, wincing at the hammer pounding in her head. Don’t think about him. Can’t change it. Have to keep going. Too many problems. She would not collapse like a weakling. “Can you get me a glass of water? I think something died in my mouth.”
While Ori was in his small kitchen, she got up and dabbed at her eyes, re-braided her hair. Her formal Council clothes were back at her apartment. If they were calling her before them like a common majus, then she would appear like one. Her clothes looked like she had spent a few nights in them, with good reason. Tough.
Caroom’s flickering eyes watched her. They hadn’t lost their apprentice. Or their father—progenitor—whatever the Benish called their parents. Rilan punched one hand into the back of the couch, but it was too soft, and the sound was unsatisfying. She ground her teeth instead.
“What is your stance on this?” she asked Caroom. “You’ve never been much involved in the politics of the maji, have you?” They preferred to tend exotic animals in their veterinary clinic in High Imperium.
Caroom didn’t answer, while Rilan tried to straighten some of the wrinkles from her clothes. Don’t think about father. Don’t think about the lost apprentices. She had asked them a purposefully vague question. Caroom was a keen observer of the animal-based organisms with which their species shared the Nether.
“This one believes the Council lately has had too much power while the maji have veered away from public service and into, hmm, self-service, as it were.” They waved a thick finger in her direction. “This one is one of two I trust out of our councilors, but this one, hmm, may well be outvoted on important matters. It depends on for what purpose the Council has called this one to them.”
Rilan sighed. She hadn’t been expecting anything quite so on-the-nose. She straightened her shoulders as Ori came back with her water. Time to work. It would take her mind away from things she couldn’t change. “I think you’re right.” He put the glass down on a nearby table. She glanced at it, then back up at him.
“You are going?” He was unsurprised.
“I am,” she answered. “I’ll let you know the latest news when I get back.” She’d get a bite to eat on the way.
The rest of the Council was in their chambers in the Spire. The way seemed longer than usual, Rilan’s feet covering less distance than they should. Pain and sorrow dogged her thoughts, but she refused them entry. She was a psychologist. She knew how the mind worked. She could work around her feelings and
come back when she had time.
Rilan held her chin high as she studied the guards on either side of the door—the Effature’s guards. Usually she would walk right in, summons or no, but with the guards, she raised her hand to knock.
“Come.” Rilan heard Jhina’s voice through the door. She pushed it open.
Six pairs of eyes stared back at her. She had been expecting the Effature, once she saw the guards at the door, but not him. Rage bubbled up from the pit of her stomach.
“What’s he doing here?” she said, pointing toward Vethis, who managed to lounge even while standing. He flipped a lacy cuff at her.
“Scared your indiscretions have finally come to light?” Vethis sneered back. He was dressed in a blindingly white suit today, the lace at his cuffs and neck in his secondary color, a deep—almost black—blue. He sniffed and ran a finger along his carefully trimmed moustache.
“What indiscretions?” Rilan said, off balance. Her eyes were burning already, and she blinked. I will not show weakness to this toad.
“Your misuse of mental practices in the House of Healing, of course,” Vethis answered, careful to emphasis his lisp. He knew it annoyed her.
Rilan was about to reply when the Effature’s slight cough brought her up short. “Perhaps we should begin these proceedings officially,” he said from his seat at one end of the semi-circular table, in his capacity as an honorary member of the Council. Rilan had never seen him use that privilege before.
The Nether’s caretaker was in his customary green and purple scaled suit, the sleeves draped expansively over the sides of his chair. The diadem gleamed on his head even in the room’s soft light. His glance landed on her, like the touch of a butterfly, then transferred to Vethis, who hunched his shoulders.
“Yes, let us begin this inquiry,” Jhina said.
“Inquiry?” Something dropped in her belly and Rilan very much regretted not using the restroom before she entered. “For what?” They know about Enos and Sam. I don’t know how, but they know.
“For your indiscr—” Vethis broke off and took a step back at Jhina’s swift glare.
“A matter has come to light requiring the rest of the Council to inquire into the nature of your work, Councilor Ayama,” Jhina said formally, her words slurring together. Her face betrayed nothing, but her ever-moving fingers were tying themselves in knots. “This will decide what course we take.”
Feldo, sitting beside her empty chair, on the opposite end from the Effature, looked grim, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. His brown collared uniform was strung with arcane equipment as always. His only sign of tension was one gnarled hand, stroking his flowing white beard. Scintien and Freshta looked almost pleased. Rilan’s eyes paused on Bofan’s empty chair, then hers, one on either side of Jhina.
The Effature’s presence was the more concerning, because of his hands-off approach to letting the Council conduct their business. Vethis’ appearance meant he was the one that had brought up the case against her. Rilan clenched her hands to keep them from wiping at her eyes. Brahm help me, no weakness. She could feel Freshta and Scintien scenting for blood.
“Have a seat,” Feldo told her, his voice gruff.
She eyed the single chair on this side—the wrong side—of the table, but couldn’t keep her glance from going to her chair, on the other side of the table. Why of all days was this coming up now?
Rilan sat down, her mind racing. Just this morning she had been outside of ChinRan. Her hands plucked at her pants, straightening wrinkles. Her father had made them for her. She swallowed, sniffed, caught a brief whiff of her own body odor. Two days without a shower. If I had known, I would have changed. She had to focus.
“Majus Vethis,” Jhina said, voice too loud for the room. “What is your complaint?”
“I accuse this councilor,” Vethis extended a finger toward Rilan, his moustache bristling, “of misusing the House of Healing to unduly influence the behavior of members of the Assembly and of her own apprentice. I saw her specifically with Majus Cyrysi’s apprentice.”
Feldo coughed something into his hand. Rilan thought it was, “dramatic fool.”
“Councilor Ayama, what is your reply?” Jhina said.
What is this farce? What are they talking about? Rilan stared back. I could be traveling to Dalhni, taking care of— She squashed the thought. “It’s completely false,” she said—the only thing she could think of. The bile in her stomach was turning to pure anger. “This accusation is obviously made up. I have important news for the Council.”
“Don’t try to sidestep the issue,” Vethis warned her. He was silenced by another scowl, from Jhina and Feldo, this time.
“Majus Vethis, now you have made your accusation, you are not required in this inquiry,” Feldo said. “I suggest you reflect on that before your next comment.” Rilan’s old schoolmate had enough sense to keep his mouth shut, for the moment, at least.
“As Councilor Feldo says, this is an inquiry, not a trial,” Jhina said to Rilan. “Still, we would like evidence to refute Majus Vethis’ claim.”
Rilan crossed her arms, fingernails digging into her palms. Her stomach was threatening to bring up the curry she had slurped down on the way. “What proof does he have for my supposed ‘behavior influencing’? Show me that first.”
“Vethis says he saw you affecting Majus Cyrysi’s apprentice,” Freshta said. Her wings crinkled the folds of her yellow tunic as they vibrated. “Tells us he saw a mental net created. Is only used for affecting someone’s personality.”
Rilan’s thoughts flashed back to the few days after she had been raised to majus, her first journey to another homeworld with Ori, and Vethis’ part in that disaster. He doesn’t remember it. I was thorough. No one knows but me and Ori. Is a repressed memory emerging? Her heart beat faster and she was sure the guilt showed on her face, but she spoke in a loud voice, clearly.
“The boy has anxiety issues,” she said. “I gave him a mental repression patch to help him overcome his fear of moving through the Nether. I’ve worked with him several times over the past ten-day. He could have seen one of several times. Yes, it’s not the ideal way, but it isn’t criminal.” When did Vethis get that information? How closely is he watching me? She almost added that they could ask Sam, but caught herself. It wasn’t time for that explosion. Vethis still looked smug, picking his nails, in his rich clothes. “Got anything else?” This is ridiculous. Was this something from cycles past, or just petty spite? He had been jealous of her rising to majus before him, twenty cycles ago. He had protested when she gained a place on the Council, eleven cycles ago. Just because he thought he could buy his way into anything he wanted—
Scintien waved a batch of papers. “Letters sent to Origon Cyrysi, expressly telling him not to bring up the topic of the supposed voids in the Assembly. He was bringing it up anyway, and Vethis stated you were seen with him before the Assembly meeting in question. You were affecting his mind to disrupt the meeting.”
Rilan didn’t even try to keep her eyebrows from raising. Were they really this gullible? “Where is your proof? Have you met Ori?” she asked. Heads jerked at her volume, and she clutched her pants. I don’t have time for this. “How often has he barged in here with no warning? Do you think it’s more likely I used illegal practices on one of my closest friends, or that he went off all half-cocked like he does all the time? Give me something better or I’m leaving, and coming back when you’re less dense. I have important matters to discuss.”
Vethis puffed his chest, sucking in a breath. Feldo stared him down and Vethis deflated.
“He also reports you attacked him last night,” Feldo told her, peering under his thick black eyebrows.
“I—what? That’s impossible. I wasn’t even here.” The words came out before Rilan could stop them. She clenched her jaw until her teeth hurt. Stupid. She blinked back hazy vision. She couldn’t be mourning and angry at these fools at the same time.
“Then who
was it, an Aridori?” Freshta asked. The Pixie bubbled out a laugh, then glanced at her fellow councilors, who were staring back, eyes wide. “Heh. Maybe another discussion. What do you mean, not here?”
“I was—” Rilan paused. This was not the way she wanted to break her news. She gritted her teeth. “I was not in the Nether at the time.”
Feldo cocked his head. “Then where were you?”
Rilan pursed her lips. This was in all the wrong order. She should be telling them about the voids. Her hand drifted down to her belt, but of course she had left her belt knife back at Ori’s apartment.
“Councilor?” Feldo prodded.
“I was in ChinRan, on Methiem.” Rilan forced out the words.
“On family matters?” Freshta asked, her wings vibrating. “You do not live in this place.”
Rilan almost broke. Vish’s knees. She wiped at her eyes, a slashing, angry gesture. No weakness. “It was not family matters.”
“Business of the maji?” Jhina asked.
“Of a sort.”
“Can others support this claim?” Feldo asked.
“Yes.” There was a question she could answer. “There are six others who can—” She swallowed, regathered her wits. Two of those were missing—probably dead. “Excuse me. There are four others who will report my presence near ChinRan for all of last night.”
Feldo narrowed his eyes, peering over the tops of his glasses. Rilan’s gaze flicked to the Effature, silent. He leaned slightly forward in his seat, his scaled suit catching light from the overhead candelabra.
“Shall we bring in your apprentice to corroborate your story?” Jhina said. “She must have accompanied you.”
Rilan clenched her hands until her nails hurt her palms. Shiv take you, Vethis. “She cannot do that.”
“Apprentice was not with you, when out of Nether?” Freshta rose a little from her seat, wings buzzing furiously.
“She was with me,” Rilan said. Just drop it. That was hoping for miracles.
“Yet she cannot back up your claim.” Feldo’s head was cocked, disbelief sketched on his face.
The Seeds of Dissolution (Dissolution Cycle Book 1) Page 22
