Inas looked like his face might crumple into grief, then it opened into a smile, and he leaned into Sam. His lips were warm on Sam’s mouth and he pressed in, hard. Sam melted under the pressure.
Time to tell him what I told Enos. It would be the start to them sharing everything. For real, this time.
“I’ll start,” he said, once they broke, and Inas pulled back to stare at him, confused.
“Enos knows this, so you should know too. In the Assembly, I made a Drain—a large one—disappear.” He shook his head to stop Inas’ question. “That’s not the strangest part. I did that with the Houses of Matter and Time. I know that now. But there was a voice, and it told me things. I think it’s behind the Drains and the Life Coalition. It has control over the Symphony like I’ve never seen before. It took some of my memories of Earth away, and vanished with the Drain. I haven’t heard it since.”
Inas held him while Sam let out a long breath. It had been easier to say this time.
“Thank you for telling me,” Inas said, his tone low and serious. “Have you told the maji?”
Sam shook his head. “The voice hasn’t come back, but I’m not completely sure it was real. If so, it was tied to the Drain and the Life Coalition hasn’t made more of them. If she knew, Majus Ayama would think I’ve finally lost whatever reason I have.”
“Possibly. Then perhaps you should tell your new teacher.” Inas slid a glance over his shoulder, and Sam watched the tendons in his neck move. “Except Wor Wobniar is tapping xyr feet again.”
Sam gave a bark of laughter. Their guide’s head flaps wavered between them and the broad building. Surely xy wondered how unsuitable they were as ambassadors of an entire facet. Sam reluctantly released Inas, though he wanted to talk.
The architecture here was unlike the Imperium. If anything, it was closer to Gloomlight, but better lit and with fewer mushrooms. Sam squeezed Inas’ hand and they followed Wor Wobniar through a circular portal. The doors were held wide open at an angle like a pair of shears. As they passed through, Sam could see they were pinned in place at the top of the semi-circle, so if released, they would slice back, covering the circular opening. He swallowed.
Inside, the building was open, save for carved and ornamented stone columns that held up the ceiling. There was only one story, though the ceiling soared three or four times his height. He ducked as one of the winged aliens swooped past, tail feathers brushing the top of his head. The light touch was like an icicle down his back.
No! I’ve been doing so well.
His fingers tingled, and his vision narrowed dangerously. His heart raced, and he couldn’t get enough air.
Why now? Was it Inas’ words? Our talk?
He tried to concentrate on Wor Wobniar, but it was like listening with cotton in his ears. He reached a hand in his pocket, to feel the comforting ridges on his pocketwatch.
“The Caraakn built this as a tribute to our Effature,” xy told them. “It is meant to be a microcosm of the Nether itself.” The Nostelrahn gestured to the forest of columns. It wasn’t the columns Sam saw.
Groups of aliens crowded the building, some holding sheaves of scrolls and tablets. Caraakn were draped in colorful and elaborate fabrics that looked like wall tapestries laid over their broad backs. The Nostelrahns wore largely grays and whites, but the materials were fine, the fit tailored. The stick-like Praveadi had coils of thin metals forming decorative bracelets, while the airy Lufvurn wore nothing but their brilliant colors.
Sam saw the ceiling of the building, high above, in one sweeping glance, then looked down. There was too much. Too many people. Too close. All the effort of keeping his anxiety at bay was undone by one touch of a tail feather. Yet he should have collapsed as soon as he left the wall.
He panted, and pulled Inas to the nearest column. Everyone was staring at him. He could feel the pressure of their attention. The noise of a hundred conversations conducted in squeaks, taps, and rumbles bored into his brain.
“Inas, help me!” Sam hissed at him. He couldn’t have a panic attack here. Wor Wobniar had asked him here as a representative of his section of the Nether. He had to act like a regular person. He had to be strong.
Why am I so weak?
But Inas’ hand slipped away, and the constant warmth he emitted cooled as he drew away from Sam.
“You are well?” Wor Wobniar asked, lights flashing across xyr head. The flag-like head flaps trained on him, then transferred away, pointing at Inas. Sam followed their path. Why wasn’t xy asking him more questions, like how he could be so ill-equipped to do anything worthwhile?
Then Sam saw what xy saw. He’d been distracted, asking Inas to help him when it should be the other way around. Inas was going gray—literally. His skin was darkening, matching Wor Wobniar’s coloring.
He’s changing shape, in the open!
Enos told of having too much emotion, after she changed shape. Had their talk layered more stress on Inas? Had Sam caused this?
Inas backed away, swerving to avoid one of the massive lumbering Caraakn, and Sam saw a third limb sprout from Inas’ back.
He can’t control it. I have to help him. Stop being weak.
The cool stone on Sam’s back was pulling him, urging him to hide from the watching eyes, to give up. But he would not leave Inas like that.
Inas’ hands lengthened, fingers turning to claws like those of a Nostelrahn, but worse—longer and sharper. His jaw separated into serrated edges, razor sharp. He took a tapping step forward on his toes. Above his tailbone, another leg trailed, half size. Inas oriented on a nearby purple alien, his arms reaching. The claws opened like a display of knives.
He’s not turning into a Nostelrahn. He’s turning into an assassin, like those of the Life Coalition.
Sam clamped down on his breathing. His chest felt like it might explode, but he took one step away from the column, then another. His heart raced, but he ignored it.
“I will not let this go wrong,” he growled.
There was an insistent tapping next to him, and he realized all three of Wor Wobniar’s feet were lifting and banging the stone floor in a rhythm. The Nether supplied that it was a warning Nostelrahns made when nervous. Xy would take care of the matter if he didn’t. A memory of flashing hands and feet went through his mind and he had his answer.
What would Majus Ayama do?
Sam surged forward, his heart in his throat, and caught one of Inas’ arms. He dragged the claw away from the dignitary and closer to him.
“Inas—don’t do this,” he pleaded, and the flaps that had opened on Inas’ head swerved to fixate on him. Sam barely kept the claw away from his eyes. Inas clacked his jaw in a threat.
“Inas. It’s me. It’s Sam. Remember how much I…I care for you.” The claws hesitated. “Remember the way you kissed me. What did they do to you there?” Inas—his Inas—would never react this way.
“Come back to me,” Sam said. He pulled the blade of the claw toward his neck. “You can’t want to hurt me.” He fought against Inas’ strength. The sharp edge was a finger-width from his throat, and Sam kept pulling, lifting his head.
Change back. Hurt me, not them.
Sam was winning the battle, though Inas was stronger. He felt the rasp of the claw prick his skin like a razor. Sam tugged harder, stretching his neck to tighten the skin. There was a sting of pain and he closed his eyes.
Then warm fingers brushed his throat, trailing down to his collarbone, and Sam let out a shaky breath. When he opened his eyes, Inas’ face was inches from his. The flaps were gone, his skin turning from slate gray to warm brown. Suddenly, Inas’ lips surged against his, hot and fierce. A hand traced down his side.
Sam melted back toward the column until cold stone hit his back, then grasped Inas’ upper arms as Inas’ hands sent electric tingles down his spine.
It’s the emotion, not Inas. Changing makes him want to feel more of everything. I have to stop.
Slowly, reluctantly, Sam pushed Inas away, looking int
o his eyes. “Are you better?” he asked.
Inas swallowed, and Sam could see the vein in his neck pulsing to his heartbeat, fast and heavy. His eyes were half lidded and for a moment, he only stared. Then he blinked and his breathing slowed.
“Sam, I am so sorry.” His voice was low and hoarse. “It was like someone else inside me, controlling what I did. I wanted to stop, but I didn’t. I—”
Sam shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize. I know what it feels like to be locked out of your own body.”
Inas’ face showed his puzzlement, then it cleared. “Is that what your attacks feel like?” Sam nodded. “And you worked through one to help me?”
“I…” He had, hadn’t he? He wasn’t used to controlling his panic attacks. “What did they do to you?” he asked again, but Inas looked away, shuffling back so he was no longer within kissing distance.
“They were training me. I’ll tell you later.” His head swiveled from side to side, as if realizing their audience. “We shouldn’t keep the Effature waiting.”
Sam shuddered and hunched in. The hall was nearly silent. If any beings hadn’t been staring at them before, they were now. The weight of their gaze came back, like a heavy blanket smothering him. Wor Wobniar’s clicking feet felt like a pick, driving into his skull.
Inas squeezed his shoulders, and as he smiled, the blanket lifted, just a little.
“You helped me. How can I help you?” he whispered.
Sam closed his eyes and found the Symphony. The beat was unfamiliar in these strange surroundings, but the music was comforting. He let it wash away some of the anxiety.
“We both have more to tell each other, when there’s time.” he said, and Inas nodded back. Then to Wor Wobniar, “I’m ready. Sorry about all this. I’m not sure we’re the best choices to meet your Effature.”
“We will find out, won’t we?” the Nostelrahn said. “I have business with you, even accounting for Aridori instability. That species has learned to control it, over the cycles.”
Inas raised his head at that. “You say other Aridori can handle this—this surge after changing?” He swallowed, and there were tears in his eyes. “I can’t hurt my friends again. I don’t want this anymore!”
Wor Wobniar’s head flaps waggled, then pointed farther into the cavernous building. “Let us walk and I will explain.”
They moved between two massive Caraakn, their rear heads turning to watch them even as the front heads, watching the floor, lumbered forward. A flock of Lufvurn coasted soundlessly overhead, a riot of fractal color.
“I do not know the techniques,” Wor Wobniar said as they walked, “but the Aridori community has ways to deal with their emotional overload. There are still fights, and their community watch is involved from time to time to keep errant individuals from causing trouble in the rest of the city.”
“Are they separate from the rest of you?” Inas asked. “Like some second-rate people?” Sam could feel the tension in his body, a motor warming up too fast.
In my facet, they were almost all killed. Yet Enos and Inas’s families were peaceful. Is there any chance for the other species to accept the Aridori again?
“No. They are accepted, but the Aridori largely stay to themselves, with their elders’ approval, and those of the other species. None of us wish for another war.” The Nostelrahn’s arms made a negating gesture. “There has been quite enough of that.” Xyr head flaps swiveled between Sam and Inas. “The Effature can give you a more complete answer.”
They passed farther into the building, and Sam wondered at the empty space. Structures in the Imperium were used to capacity, with stores built on top of others, and residences mingling with places of business, in styles from all ten species. Here, the crowds were sparse and vast stretches of open stone floor extended out of sight.
Only a group of the tripod-like purple Praveadi tumbled by on an errand, followed by a trio of Nostelrahns scuttling past. After the bustle of the entrance, this area was almost devoid of people. Was the Effature sitting all alone at the end of the building? Where was the Assembly? How did the species agree on what to do?
Sam listened, wondering if the Symphony could tell him. He’d heard little bits of Majus Ayama’s House of Healing, and what Majus Cyrysi did with the House of Communication. Could he speak for all the houses? To meet the Effature in an official capacity, he had to be the best representative of his facet of the Nether.
Inas was composed again, hands in front of him, though his shoulders were tense. Sam wondered what help he would receive from an entire community like him. If they lived among other species, the Aridori had to control the emotional surge. Or did they simply never change? Sam shook his head. He had to focus on meeting the Effature. If it was anything like meeting the leader of his facet, it would take all his attention.
How much could the House of Matter tap into the other aspects? Sam had heard a deep aspect of the Symphony when disrupting the Communication between members of the Life Coalition, at the fight in the warehouse. Maybe he could do the same here to figure out the power structure.
Sam relied on Inas’ arm to guide him while he concentrated. Symphonies overlapped each other in a complex web, and tried to catch the interactions. It was as if he overlaid Beethoven with Mozart, then dropped a Chopin minuet on top. He squeezed Inas’ arm and let his eyes drift shut—the columns were spaced widely, and there were few beings around. Notes called out to each other, singing of different phases and expressions of matter. The liveliest melodies were attached to living beings, but everything, even the air, had its own music.
A complex spiral of rhythm flew overhead, and Sam looked up to see another Lufvurn glide by. This species’ genders were strange, not mapping onto anything Sam had encountered before. Each one was individual and infinite, self-contained. The music accompanying this one echoed in the brightly colored patterns of…aeir wings. The Nether supplied the unfamiliar pronoun. Sam could almost see the notes swirling around aem, settling into the complex branching paths.
No, there is a connection here.
He squinted, and, for a moment, a wave of lines traced from the Lufvurn to him and Inas, to Wor Wobniar, to the building, to all the other beings here.
Sam gasped, his feet fixed to the floor at the panorama of direction and effect. Wor Wobniar’s rear head flap centered on him, and xy spun, in a chorus of tapping. A silver aura enveloped xyr, just like when xy had come through the wall. Xy scuttled to Sam, the line of colors around xyr head spiking in intensity, rotating through reds, oranges, and blues, faster than he could follow.
Xy will tell me to leave. I’ve been causing problems since I got here. It’s the first contact between facets of the Nether in ages and I’m ruining it. Just like me…
Wor Wobniar grasped Sam’s hand with one claw, pulling it closer to xyr head flaps. “What did you do?” xy asked. “Can you do it again?”
The Nether’s translation of the light show and the clacking jaws felt like buzzing in his head. “I… I was trying to listen to the Symphony,” Sam answered, “to hear why this place was built like it was.”
“And?” Wor Wobniar’s strip of lights blinked furiously. “Did you see the Vloeinkaal?”
“I don’t know what that is,” Sam said. A small piece of his mind hammered at him.
Too much, out in the open. Too many people. Too much attention. He clamped down against the feeling, remembering how he pushed past it just minutes before.
“Did you see anything?”
The fleeting glance of the lines had been so brief he could have imagined it. He thought he’d seen them before he moved the Drain in the Assembly, but his mind was probably making things up, like it always did. He hadn’t even told Majus Cyrysi or Majus Ayama about it. Only Enos knew, and she wasn’t here. He’d left her just like he’d left Inas. The others had to be trying to get her back.
It was probably nothing. It was nothing.
“No. I didn’t see anything.”
Wor Wob
niar still held his hand up, studying it as if it was of the greatest importance. “I understand,” xy said, dropping his hand. “We’re almost there.” The strip of lights was dim, translated as a whisper by the Nether, and xy clacked xyr jaws in what would be a grunt in a Methiemum.
They passed the last few blocks in silence, and the number of other beings increased again. These were dressed progressively in finer and finer clothes, or at least Sam guessed they were. Fashion for a butterfly/snake cross with psychedelic wings was beyond him.
Sam, Inas, and Wor Wobniar approached the central feature of the area—a giant construction of stone, shell, and web, painted in a riot of striated colors. It ended in a pedestal, and on top of it perched a Nostelrahn, her three toe-claws equally spaced around the perimeter. On her head was a diadem. She was dressed in opposition to the other Nostelrahns Sam had seen, in a scaled green and purple suit. It bore a startling resemblance to what his Effature wore.
Inas bent his head close. “She’s a she,” he whispered, and Sam realized his friend was right. The Nether was clearly transmitting a female gender for the Effature, when he had no context for Wor Wobniar’s gender. Would it be rude for him to ask?
As they came closer, the Effature rose to her three feet and clacked down the side of the throne, like a crab scuttling across the beach. When she got to the bottom, she started across the floor toward them. As she did, the circlet attached to the top of her head caught a stray bit of light. It was exactly like the one on Bolas Palmoran’s head.
“You are the representatives from the other facet of the Nether,” the Effature said, through the translation of the colors that passed across her forehead. It wasn’t a question. Her head flaps fixated on Sam, seeming to rake through even his thoughts, then on Inas. “Such interesting forms.”
A ripple passed through her body, then another. Sam traded looks with Inas. What was happening?
“I am Crominu Vaevicta, but Palmoran must have already told you this. Welcome to my facet of the Nether.”
Facets of the Nether Page 24
