Tales of the Dissolutionverse Box Set

by William C. Tracy

  “The good news is that Doctor Chaptali did an excellent job,” she said. “There is much internal damage, but I believe she will recover, in time.” The majus picked up one of the bottles of liquid on the table. “The bad news is that I must apologize for the contamination in these vials. I don’t know what happened to them.”

  “What contamination?” Kamuli asked, but my stomach was clenching. I knew the answer.

  “A foreign compound, not supposed to be there. The poison is in her reproductive system already, reacting with the antibiotics.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment, then looked to Kamuli, her head in her hands. Either she guessed the wrong pills or Amra got contaminated medicine from the hospital. We would never know, and in either case, this was exactly the Baldeks’ plan. We should have avoided the warehouse and gone to the maji to begin with.

  “You can’t…?” I gestured vaguely with my good hand.

  The majus gave me an apologetic look. “She is still very weak. Any part of her biology I changed now would kill her.”

  “I hoped…”

  “I’m very sorry, but,” she scanned the room once more, “if everyone is out of immediate danger…” Doctor Chaptali, slumped in the background, signaled his agreement. “I’d like to discuss what to do with the crates and the prisoner sitting outside this hospital.”

  “You can have the Baldek, but the crates are my property, until they get delivered.” My eyes went back to Amra. Bhon watched me, her face pained.

  The woman tapped her hand on her leg, impatient. “They’re your property…for now. Only because I am choosing not to confiscate the entire lot.” She fixed me with her dark-eyed gaze again, and I blinked first. This woman had hard eyes. “Despite the question of who owns them, what are we to do with illegally imported medicines containing compounds causing sterility in Methiemum?”

  I realized my mouth was open, and hastily closed it. How did she know?

  “Not a healer. Still from the House of Healing.” The majus wiggled her fingers by way of explanation. “The biological contaminants in the melody of the medicine are very similar to what I heard in this bottle.” She lifted the vial used on Amra.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Melody?”

  “Never mind.” She wiped the air with a flat hand. “The cargo?”

  “I have a lot of expense in that manifest. Even more now.” I glanced at Amra. “Plus, I’m recently out of work, and…saving up for a wedding.”

  The majus pursed her lips. “You’re not the only one with expenses. We’ll have to bring in maji and scientists to check all medical supplies recently imported to Methiem.” Something relaxed in my chest. Others knew. Even if we did nothing, this…this majus would take care of it. It wasn’t just us anymore.

  “I have a thought,” volunteered an old and scratchy voice. We both looked to the Colonel, as he entered the main theater.

  “What if you turn this whole thing back on its ear? Keep the good stuff, and send our ‘extra’ poisoned medicine back to those who made it in the first place.”

  The younger majus looked thoughtful.

  “Would they even use it? Would it have the same effect on the Sureriaj?” I asked.

  “Not as much,” she answered, “though that’s not the point.”

  “Could you make the whole Baldek family die out?” I asked. For Amra. For those new orphans in the park.

  The female majus shook her head. “No. Some Baldeks might end up taking their own medicine, but I will not continue this war.” She contemplated a moment. “I will make them recognize their own handiwork. Show them we know. Teach them this is not the way of the Great Assembly. Our way is peace. Otherwise, one errant faction can give an entire species a bad name.”

  Her words made me look to my fiancé again. My vision of a little shop with children in the yard was fading.

  “I think the Naiyul constables were investigating the Baldeks,” Kamuli said, her eyes red. I remembered our tails on Sureri. “They may be able to help.”

  “But can they help enough?” I asked. “This took the influence of an entire family of the Sureriaj. Surely the Methiemum provinces are busy dealing with the Shudders epidemic?”

  The woman smiled back, thin-lipped and nasty. “There are ways. The Council has the influence and finance.”

  “The Council of the Maji?” My eyes widened. This woman had connections. The Council answered only to the senatorial power of the Great Assembly. Here was a power that could rival that of an entire family of the Sureriaj—that of a multi-species senate with power bases on all ten homeworlds.

  My eyes strayed back to Amra.

  “You can’t just take the cargo,” I said quietly. “I have to make sure she’s safe.” My stomach clenched at the emptiness of my threat. One man against the entire Great Assembly. This one majus could incapacitate me by herself.

  She followed my gaze and gave me another smile, this one understanding. “I think we can come to an arrangement.”

  “Which is?” Would they simply throw us all in prison? I still didn’t trust the maji.

  “For the services rendered in discovering what might have become an interspecies war, the Council can send a reward your way. With the other cleanup we’ll have to do, a little more expense won’t be noticed.” That got our attention.

  The majus named a price. My mouth dropped open.

  It was enough to keep Amra and I comfortable for years, as well as Bhon and Kamuli. Saart would have enough left over to tinker with whatever old gadgets he liked, build a dozen steam-powered mechanical legs. Our little store was a reality. As many children as…except not.

  The silence stretched out.

  The Majus was waiting. I offered my good hand to shake. “It’s a deal.”

  As we shook, she was already talking. “With the samples here, we can start a full-scale search for the rest of the contaminated medicine. We’ll turn this back on the Baldeks in no time. And I’ll have your payment drawn up officially as soon as I get back to the Council.”

  I froze. She didn’t just know the Council, she was on it. This was the head of the House of Healing herself. If anyone could stop the Baldeks in their genocide, this woman could. Maybe the maji were not only out for themselves. The two here had shown honor in dealing with a small-time merchant.

  Sometime later, I leaned over Amra as her eyes fluttered open.

  “How would you like to have a place right here in Kashidur City?” I asked.

  She grasped my hand, weakly. “Prot. We don’t have—”

  “We have everything we need,” I told her. “And I have you.” I took a deep breath. “After the wedding, what do you think about adopting a little girl? I’ve been told there are a lot of orphans, victims from the Shudders epidemic.”

  Amra looked back, confused, and I smiled at her. “It’s an idea. You don’t have to decide now. Rest up. We have a lot to plan.” I would break the news—all the news—when she was a little better. I looked to Saart, Kamuli, and Bhon. No more deliveries.

  The First Majus in Space

  1003 A.A.W.

  PART ONE

  First Flight of the Vimana Aryuman

  - The Houses of the Maji are vastly different in scope, yet none are considered above the others. Each has a balance for the other five. The House of Healing may undo the House of Communication’s change, one from the House of Strength could stand firm against the draw of the House of Potential, and the House of Grace can evade the House of Power’s raw might.

  Fragment of a parchment, dated circa 550 B.A.W.

  Origon pushed through the multitudes packing the arena on the outskirts of Kashidur City. A great shrouded hulk loomed in the distance at the far end of the crowded space, big as a building. If he remembered correctly, this used to be a forest at the edge of the city. The plain was flat compacted dirt now, soon to be baked earth, if the hot and sunny weather held. Odd to place a lone construction out here, then pack people around
it. Methiem was already the most populous of the ten homeworlds, and members of other species had been arriving all morning at the portal ground from their own far-flung worlds or from the Nether.

  Excited babble assaulted him on all sides, and air currents carried their intent in the trills of the Symphony of Communication.

  “Look there, mama!” A child Lobath, her head tails not yet long enough to braid.

  “They told me it was bigger than a building. They weren’t lying.” Two Festuour in conversation.

  “What does it do? Why now?”

  “How much did you spend on that?”

  He could hear tension of alien species in the music, wondering at the presumption of the Methiemum. This latest proof of their technological arrogance grated on the slower and more cautious species. He was not so bothered. The trader species made a lot of interesting gadgets.

  “Get yer fried keilbash!”

  Origon’s feathery crest ruffled as a hawker jostled past him with a tray of sausages that smelled overcooked and over seasoned. No sense killing it and wasting the meat with all that spice. Belatedly, he moved a long-fingered hand over the inside pocket of his colorful robe where he kept his coins. No one would dare steal from a majus, but in this crowd, a cutpurse might not even realize from whom he was stealing.

  As he shoved closer, smoothing his moustache down, he eyed the structure at the front of the crowd, surrounded by ladders and scaffolding. The canny Methiemum had an open invitation to anyone and everyone to watch the unveiling of their grand invention. If they could have made a profit from it, they might have called the ten species here to reveal a giant block of cheese, but he didn’t think that was the case. The thing was the presentation, and the Methiemum were masters of it.

  He thrust forward, using his height and sharp elbows to create paths, and ignoring curses thrown his way.

  “Oy! Watch yer bony arms, ye great robed buffoon!” The angry Sureri, like a furry, starved gargoyle sans wings, layered doubts upon his parentage, his furry face screwed up into a grimace. There were always those who were jealous.

  Origon paid him no mind. The maji who attended should have prominent positions, and he was no exception. He finally reached the front of the arena, where a line of the Mayoral Guard stood at attention. The soldiers parted at a glare from him, recognizing him as a majus from the badge with his house colors, and Origon took a place by other important people—including at least one Etanela Speaker, half again as tall as he.

  “Greetings, Majus,” the Speaker said, her long fingers making a graceful curve through the air. From high above, her large pale eyes acknowledged him from a face surrounded by a mane of light hair.

  “Speaker,” he returned the greeting, settling beside her.

  Beings of every shape and size stretched to his right and left, pushing each other, trying to get closer to the front, though the line of guards held them back. They were before a raised stage, the Methiemum’s shrouded construct towering overhead. It cast a shadow across the crowd, now reaching back to the edges of the area. The dirt plain, stretching nearly as far as he could see, was even fuller than when he arrived.

  A snap of material drew Origon’s attention. With a cheer from the crowd, the immense sheet covering the structure dropped, folding in on itself. There was a round of gasps, and an immediate buzz of conversation. He barely suppressed his reaction, forcing his crest to lay flat. No need to look completely ignorant. He had been consulted—indirectly—on how wind currents would affect a smooth object at a great height. He was prepared for some sort of great balloon, perhaps launched from the top of a building, but this was…impressive.

  It shone in the sunlight, bright enough to make him squint. The main structure was a cylinder of burnished metal, sleek and bright, rounding to a dome far overhead. The base and jutting fins were sparsely ornamented, as was the main shaft, but the filigree and hatching he could see was finely done. It looked like nothing so much as a giant finger, pointing to the sky. People were shielding their eyes, gesturing to the gleaming object.

  One of the official-looking Methiemum on the platform spoke from behind a podium. Origon thought it was the mayor of the province of Kashidur, though he could hardly keep such people straight. The man’s voice was amplified by a tube glowing with stored energy of the Houses of Communication and Potential.

  “Welcome, all!” The man shaded his eyes with a hand. “I see people from every homeworld of the Great Assembly of Species here today. Good, good.” The man swept a hand to the great structure behind him. “The capsule you see before you will shortly begin a monumental journey.” There were exclamations, and questions from the crowd, asking how such a thing could move.

  But the mayor was still speaking. “It will bring a crew of Methiemum, and one of our revered maji, up to our moon, Ksupara.” The closest and smallest of Methiem’s three satellites. Better to start small, if such a plan was to be believed.

  “Once there, the crew will explore the new land, mapping and providing the first scientific study of Ksupara.” To see what minerals were available, Origon mentally translated. The audience shouted and muttered at this pronouncement. Others had come to the same conclusion. Why waste so many resources to build this thing, when the ten homeworlds were connected by portals, an easy step from one place to another? Leave it to the Methiemum to want more than one homeworld.

  The mayor continued his speech, detailing how the majus would assist flying the shuttle, establish the coordinates of a new portal ground, and bring the crew back from Ksupara ‘the short way.’ Origon of course knew all this. If maji could simply make a portal anywhere, he would have traveled over much more of the universe. Sadly, one could only make a portal where one had been before, thus the capsule. Otherwise, every species might have ventured to their moons and to other planets in their solar system.

  While the mayor rambled on, telling of the construction and planning required, Origon examined the capsule. A majus was required to fly it, as in all great acts, but as far as he could tell, the vehicle was fashioned wholly by hand, and not by maji changing the Symphony. He marveled at how much wealth the Methiemum tied up in this mechanical venture. No wonder they invited everyone to see. They could at least make some of their money back with the increased trade. The Methiemum, after all, practiced usury with abandon, which no self-respecting Kirian would do.

  As the mayor spoke, a group of people climbed a tall ladder behind him, connected to a walkway at the top of the structure. They reached the top when the mayor wound up his speech. “So we see the prowess of the Methiemum. Our species reaches out to the nine others, showing, and soon sharing, what heights can be achieved by the sweat of our hands. Without even the assistance of the maji, we have built this vehicle you see behind me.” He gestured backwards again. “It will be the first to travel between the stars, built by the technology and ingenuity of my people. And thus, I set this great craft, the Vimana Aryuman, in motion, lighting the fuse to allow its passage to Ksupara.” The mayor stooped around his prominent belly and pressed a button.

  With a whoosh, flames banked around the capsule behind the stage, slowly building higher, to the appreciative cries of the audience.

  It was a show for the gullible crowds. Origon could hear the Symphony of Power’s strident chords deep in the melody of the shuttle. The visible flames were just a coal-fired pilot light to a great furnace stored in the belly of the capsule.

  So why is it that I am standing down here in the crowd?

  He was one of the best suited for this purpose, his abilities rare even among the ranks of the maji. Very few could hear the Symphony of two houses; only three other maji were members of both the House of Communication and of the House of Power. For this capsule to fly to Ksupara, a majus would be needed to control the fuel burn with the House of Power, as well as correct the shuttle’s flight through the air with the House of Communication. He supposed two maji could try to coordinate their changes to the Symphon
y, but it would be much harder than one majus controlling both. The mayor only mentioned having one. Thus the capsule required the rare majus who could hear both Symphonies at once to function at peak efficiency. Like him. Yet no one had asked him. He squinted up at the walkway looking for which majus had been chosen in his place.

  One of the figures, vaguely familiar, waved from the walkway near the top of the capsule. There were only a few thousand maji total, so many were known on sight, even to the common folk. What was his name? The mayor was speaking again, announcing the titles and names of the crew. Origon ignored the others until the mayor got to…ah. Teju. Origon had to admit the boy was a fitting choice. Teju was the one Methiemum out of the four maji in existence with access to the Houses of both Communication and Power. However, he was recently raised from the ranks of the apprentices, if Origon remembered correctly. A fitting choice, perhaps, but not a strong one.

  The pretty show flames licked the bottom of the giant cylinder. The crew would be on their way shortly, the great capsule lifting high into the air. Just one more opportunity passing him by, given to a majus by far his inferior.

  The air cracked overhead, and Teju stiffened. Shouts grew in the audience, arms rose, pointing. The line of guards pushed forward. Origon swung around, searching. A glint of reflected sunlight caught his eye, but the giant Etanela next to him motioned, and her elbow caught his head and knocked him sideways. Origon scanned the arena, trying to get his bearings. He rubbed his temple.

  “My apologies,” the Etanela Speaker said, stooping. “What do you see? What happened?”

  Origon ignored her. There. A cloaked person, all in gray-green, wearing a wide-brimmed hat, surely sweltering in the hot Kashidur sunlight. Something flashed again, a reflection from a long metal tube, peeking out underneath the long overcoat. A projectile weapon of some sort?