The Seeds of Dissolution (Dissolution Cycle Book 1)

by William C. Tracy

  “Time to tell us the rest of what you found out,” Majus Ayama told them. “We can do it over breakfast, but I want to know every scrap of information you got from the thing in that box.”

  Soon, they sat around a low round table, except for Majus Caroom, who leaned against a wall as usual, nibbling at their bread. Majus Cyrysi had a little box of his own, with things that wiggled inside. He slurped them up with a pointed utensil, and Sam tried not to watch.

  They split the warm fresh bread, with generous slabs of butter and jam from some fruit Sam couldn’t quite place. It tasted a little like strawberries, but also like oranges. Enos spread butter and jam for her brother, and Inas kept his left hand beneath the table.

  After they were settled, Inas spoke, slowly, his voice raw. “I saw into its—their mind.”

  Their? Sam looked between the twins. Like two instances? Enos saw him looking, and as if reading his thoughts, gave him a very tiny nod.

  There was fear in Inas’ eyes. “This is not something I knew Aridori could do. You must believe me.” He shook his head back and forth. “We know little except what our family told us, and that many of the rumors about us are false.”

  “This creature was a thing of nightmares,” Majus Ayama said. “We saw what it could do. Can you do the same? Can you prove you can’t?”

  “Not reasonable to ask this one to prove a negative,” Majus Caroom rumbled, and Majus Ayama accepted the correction with a wave of one hand.

  “We cannot do what they did,” Inas replied. His voice was getting smoother, closer to what Sam remembered. “You have seen us change. It is normally a slow process. Maybe multiple minds, melded together, have other powers.” He shivered, and sniffed. Was he crying? Sam longed to go to him, but it was too soon. Enos put a hand on Inas’ shoulder, her eyes hard. “They were old, so old,” he continued. “They did not have names, not that they remembered. They were completely insane.”

  Majus Hand Dancer signed.

  “He will not hurt you,” Enos retorted, clutching at Inas. “You think the worst of us, but it is lies!” She stared around the room and Sam rushed at a chance to defend the twins.

  “Surely it’s been long enough since the war. Can’t we convince people that there are good Aridori too?” He looked between the two. “You told me you were descended from the peaceful ones.” Majus Ayama regarded him for a long moment. Wondering how long I’ve kept this from her. Let her wonder.

  Enos took in air through her teeth. “There is not some artificial line demarking the ‘bad’ from the ‘good.’ Part of it came from changing too much, raising the emotions.”

  “These ones are not, hmm, accusing,” Majus Caroom said. “Still, those two understand this group must be cautious. These ones are still unsure of the hidden species that appears to be living in hiding, while in plain sight.”

  “We were minding our business, living our lives,” Enos shouted. “He and his mentor forced us out!” She flung a finger at Sam and Majus Cyrysi.

  “Calm. This is not to be getting us the location of the Life Coalition, nor where they will make the next Drain.” Majus Cyrysi stared Enos down. Sam didn’t think she would have reacted so strongly, save that she had recently changed form. I hope not. She said she would forgive me. I can’t protect them if she won’t let me.

  “They were insane,” Inas continued, speaking to the table as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “I could still tell the difference between my mind and theirs. I believe I am safe from contamination.”

  Sam stared at where Inas hid his hand under the table, wondering if he was really was. Should I ask about his hand? It was further betrayal of his friends. No, he couldn’t do it.

  “They shared things with me,” Inas continued in a monotone. “Mostly they begged me to kill them. Those that captured them have held them a long time. I do not know how long—they had no sense of time—but I got the feeling of centuries upon centuries. Their mind no longer operated as usual, but there was an original design, some reason of working with the Sathssn. They had been captured longer than the Life Coalition existed, kept somewhere secret from all but one family of Sathssn. They must have known of our merchant group, for the Drain to have caught us.” He stared down, right hand drawing an invisible doodle on the tabletop. “In the end, I helped them find their way.”

  Sam gripped his hands on the edge of the table, fingertips scraping across the wood. I have to help them. I can’t help them until the maji get their information. He didn’t know if Enos would let him get close.

  Hand Dancer asked.

  “A good question, especially since it could change so quickly,” Majus Ayama added.

  Inas shook his head. “They did not say.”

  “It was likely to be a shield of energy, or something similar,” Majus Cyrysi said. “The House of Potential can come closest to approximating a full containment without the other houses present. The resulting prison could also be moved, so Feldo would have been able to put it in the box we saw.”

  “How old was it, to know of your family of hidden Aridori? Do you know if any of your people ever went missing?” Majus Ayama asked Enos.

  Enos shook her head angrily. “You accuse us of knowingly letting one of our people suffer this? No one could be that cruel!” She was shouting again and Sam stood up. At Majus Cyrysi’s glare and flared crest, he sat back down. Have to do something. He checked his pulse. Too fast.

  “Peace, child,” Majus Caroom ordered, and their voice held a deep resonance, like a thrumming cello.

  Enos’ eyes widened. Maybe she’ll realize what’s happening. Sam sat forward.

  “The majus asks only if this one’s family may have known of these beings from before their capture.”

  Enos was silent, as was Inas. When she spoke again, her voice was restrained, but Sam could hear the stress underneath. He wanted to go to her, comfort her. “Our family was very close. There were so few of us. I do not recall any member of our caravans going missing in our lifetimes.”

  “What of the information it gave you?” Majus Cyrysi said. “Anything of the Drains?”

  “There were images of black cloaks—of their captors,” Inas intoned. He at least raised his head, but his eyes were sunken, staring into nothing.

  “Sathssn,” Majus Ayama said. “Like Sam and Enos reported. The Most Traditional Servants must be funding this Life Coalition.”

  Hand Dancer asked.

  “During our ‘interview’,” Majus Ayama filled the word with distaste, “the creature said the Aridori scare was a distraction for the voids. What would the Sathssn—even the most fundamental of them—want with the voids? They will be destroyed just like everyone else.”

  “Do they want to get rid of those different from them?” Sam hazarded. He hunched his shoulders as the others looked to him.

  Then Majus Cyrysi answered, and Sam let out a breath. “What is to be gained now? The fundamental Sathssn have always had a dislike for those they saw as blasphemers.” He paused, looking unnaturally worried for the generally confident majus. “The prisoner mentioned both ‘dissolve’ and ‘dissolute’ in close proximity. Normally I would not even consider such an idea, but recent occurrences have, well, adjusted my perspective. Could they have meant ‘Dissolution’?”

  No one answered, though the maji’s eyes darted to each other. Sam didn’t have the confidence to ask what the Dissolution was.

  Then Inas cleared his throat. His eyes were focused far off, but his posture was erect. He looked more like himself. “I’ve remembered. They knew something else. The next void would take place in the Nether.”

  “We already know that. Where?” Majus Ayama said, but Majus Hand Dancer raised long fingers at her and she fell silent. />
  “They did not know where in the Nether,” Inas answered. Something like a sigh went through the group. The Nether was vast.

  We won’t find it in time. They could pick any place.

  “But,” Inas continued and they all stared at him, “it will be in the Nether, because…because something special is to happen.” He screwed up his face. “Many voids—at least one on each homeworld—they will converge on the Nether. I cannot recall. A meeting? Between—”

  “The Life Coalition is meeting?” Majus Ayama said. “Where? When?”

  “There will be…a meeting.” Inas said the words slowly, as if tasting them. “Yes. There will be a meeting in the Nether. In the Imperium.” He paused. “Tonight.” He seemed surprised by his own words.

  The maji sat forward. “Better,” Majus Ayama said. “Where is it?”

  Inas closed his eyes, then opened them. He met Sam’s eyes, frowned slightly. “I think I can take you to it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The Bazaar

  -The Imperium is divided into three sections, High, Mid, and Low. There are no borders to mark them, but from a high vantage point, the divisions are easy to see. High Imperium holds the Assembly, the Palace, the Spire, and the wealthy and elite. Mid Imperium consists of many of the shops and entertainments, and Low Imperium contains much of the industry, machinery, crime, and finally, the Bazaar.

  Morvu Francita Januti, Etanela explorer and big game hunter

  It had been late morning when Sam and the others left Majus Hand Dancer’s apartment, and it took most of the day for them to reach the other end of the Imperium. First they traveled by hired cab pulled by a pair of ostrich-like System Beasts made of creaking bronze, then by the tram, rumbling along a raised line that sped through and above the buildings of the Imperium.

  Around them, the warren of interconnected structures making up Mid Imperium fell away to something fundamentally different. There, the dominant feature was commerce; signs waving in a breeze, or vendors out boasting about their wares, or smells of cooking meat or vegetables. Here, it was industry. Even in the tram, the sound level rose, dopplered rhythms of great presses striking metal, or sizzling fires, or carts filled with sheets of strange bark-like material rattling along underneath nearly as fast as the tram.

  The others took it in stride, and Sam’s eyes darted between the maji, and his friends. Inas and Enos had their own bench, across the aisle from Sam, near, but not by his sides as when they had traversed the Imperium together. Was that only a few days ago? At least they looked at him now, though as often Inas’ gaze was lost in the distance, as he tried to recall details of what he had learned from whatever had been in the box. Sam tried to pry more information out of them, but they wouldn’t tell him. It was an Aridori, but not like them. It was like the ones in the war—different enough to make them afraid. It was easy for him to see, but the maji didn’t understand. He wished he could press his knowledge into the others, but the prejudice against the Aridori went deeper than simple words could fix. It would take time for the maji to trust them again, as it had with him.

  The walls were shading toward twilight as their tram slowed, pulling into the terminal station of the Low Imperium line. “I didn’t know the Imperium was this big,” Sam told Majus Cyrysi. Too big, too crowded, his mind screamed at him, and Sam tried to regulate his breathing. His watch and the Symphony had been constant companions through many of the stations, as he’d seen various beings join or leave the carriage. It’s all so new.

  “It is to be quite large,” Majus Cyrysi answered. “Larger than Kashidur City on Methiem, even.” A pair of Pixies buzzed past them, speaking rapidly as they flew to the next carriage.

  “Low Imperium is practically a city in itself,” Majus Ayama said. Her eyes roved the crowds outside the tram, their clothes plainer than what Sam was used to seeing near the Spire, and often smudged with dirt or soot. “If High Imperium is a bright jewel, reflecting the light from the walls, then Low Imperium is cut glass trying to pass itself off as a diamond.”

  He saw nothing resembling a diamond—it was more like coal. This was a place work got done. He peered out of the tram’s windows at the maze of low brick warehouses, then pulled back, breathing out in measured time. Hand Dancer leaned forward. she signed.

  Sam felt his stomach clench. He knew the Lobhl was trying to help, but the anticipation only made things worse. They got up, Sam keeping hold of the cloth seat backs as he walked, forcing his legs forward. The smell of old wood varnish and unclean bodies made him mildly nauseated. We’ll be out in the crowds soon.

  Inas and Enos were behind him as they exited the tram terminal, and Sam focused on their presence, hearing echoes in the Symphony of their subtle body language, communication the three of them shared. When did I learn to hear that? He glanced down to Inas’ left hand. Have the others noticed yet? Enos followed his eyes, then looked back to him and shook her head, just a little. Inas had his eyes forward, his steps taking him to the head of their group. Sam was forced to follow, his steps and heart too fast. Too much new. He kept his head down, reached for Enos’ hand. She didn’t pull away, for which he was thankful. At least the fading light reduced how much he could see.

  They turned a corner, and the sound level increased again. The metallic buzz of industry gave way to the organic soup of many voices, all together. There was a group of three Etanela banging out a frantic jig on a set of dented pipes and found percussion. Sam winced, and squeezed Enos’ hand. More crowds.

  “Will the meeting be in the Bazaar?” Majus Ayama called.

  “Nearby,” Inas answered, his voice distant. Both twins had calmed during the day, regaining composure after returning to their everyday forms. Are they natural forms? What do they really look like? Sam stared at the back of Inas’ head, his hair bound up again. Does it matter? No. It didn’t. Their personalities were what he liked. His gaze trailed down Inas’ lower back, moving over the curves below. Well, mostly.

  “They knew the chaos would be a cover,” Inas continued. “Those who gave them orders met with them there.”

  Sam guessed he meant the thing they had found in the prison, which the twins said was multiple things. He rubbed fingers over Enos’ knuckles, and she squeezed back. Like two instances? Mashed together with no escape? He couldn’t imagine Enos and Inas like that. No wonder it had been insane.

  “The Life Coalition?” Majus Caroom asked.

  “Most likely,” Inas answered.

  They came to a balcony, overlooking a field—even larger than the grounds of the Spire, and Sam let go of Enos, grasping the rail to combat the vertigo that pulled at him. There was a column to one side, reflecting soft dimming light from the walls. There are so many people.

  It was absolute chaos, beings of all shapes and sizes moving back and forth in the twilight, between tents and tables, like a massive flea market. It was on open ground, divided into sections by temporary barriers and structures. Trees from many worlds ringed the area.

  Spicy aromas drifted up to them—meats cooking, and sweet fruits, and the unmistakable sour scent of fermented drink. Inas said the meeting would be at ninth darkening, near midnight. It wasn’t that late yet, but close. Even at this time, the Bazaar was filled to bursting.

  “The meeting is on the far side,” Inas said.

  “Through that?” Sam felt his knees go weak, and the railing he clutched was the only thing holding him up.

  Inas turned to look at him, as if seeing him for the first time that day. “Yes. I’m sorry.” He reached out his good hand, hesitated, then grasped Sam’s shoulder.

  Sam closed his eyes. “Will you stay with me?”

  “We will,” Enos said.

  Sam kept to the middle of their group, between Inas and Enos, hemmed in by Maji Ayama and Cyrysi in the front and Caroom and Hand Dancer in the back. He had a wall to look through and observe li
fe outside of his anxiety.

  Others brushed by the group and Sam flinched inward, even sheltered as he was. He held his watch, thumb rubbing the engraving around the rim. Listen for the Symphony. Feed the worry into it. It helped a little.

  All ten species were in evidence here, some manning the myriad stalls, some buying from or trading with them. Sparking gas lights with halos of orange threw long shadows. People called prices, questions, and insults, the Nether translating everything with the trademark accent of each species—the fast and weird tenses of the Kirians, the gruff words of the furry Festuour, the smooth fluid slurring of the Etanela. Anything and everything was on sale, from raw materials, to food and drink, to clothes, jewelry, weapons, tools, vehicles, technology, and, of course, sex. Sam tried not to stare at a bare-armed and legged Kirian, her brightly colored open shirt revealing the curve of breasts touched with downy feathers. Next to her a lengthy Etanela, which the Nether identified as the subordinate male gender, sat with no shirt, his tall blueish torso smooth and hydrodynamic. Both Majus Ayama and Enos gave him an appraising look as they passed.

  Many of the stall owners were the enterprising Festuour, and Methiemum, but tentacled Lobath and even the tiny winged Pixies ran many of the stands.

  They passed around a cluster of whispering Sathssn, arguing with an Etanela over a painting of sunrise over a watery landscape. One had her cowl back, and watched their group with red cat’s eyes. Orange light glinted off the tiny bright green scales on her face.

  There were even a few Benish stumping along, each as wildly organic and different as two gnarled trees shaped by the wind, and Sam picked out a bald Lobhl gesturing in barter to a Pixie over a set of elongated pipes which could have been musical instruments, tubing, or some sort of food processor. Behind them, a group of three Sureriaj stalked, glaring suspiciously at others, and whispering back and forth in their brogue.

  Boots and cart wheels had churned the ground, and Sam picked his way around mud puddles and the papers and rags of garbage, strewn on the ground. As they moved through the crowd, Sam’s breathing gradually slowed. Enjoy the sights while you’re here. Their group opened enough to let him feel the surface of a smooth twisting sculpture which reminded him of torrents of water, frozen in the midst of falling.