Tales of the Dissolutionverse Box Set

by William C. Tracy

  I edged past a massive construct of pipes and hoses—a failed attempt to harness performed music and compare it with the Symphony—and around stacks of books to arrive at the heart of our workshop. I was surrounded by our many iterations of System Beast design, each crafted in a different form of creature from across the Nether and the ten homeworlds.

  “—find the screw for my glasses, Kratitha?” Gompt was asking. “I’ve been trying to fix the actuator on the new prototype without them for half a lightening.” The Festuour was gesturing expansively with one furry arm, and I stepped back to avoid being hit.

  “Speaker Thurapo is—” I began, but Kratitha cut me off.

  “Yes, yes, found screw and fixed them just now, but had idea,” she chirruped. Her wings were a blur and she held her small body at table height, peering through Gompt’s glasses first with one, then another section of her compound eyes. “Need to see windings on motor. Too many for magnetic ratio. Glasses magnification most helpful. Though could add another lens to glasses to account for distribution in Pixie focal lengths.”

  “I calculated the ratio yesterday,” Gompt said. “We wound it too tightly before. Take off six rotations and it should work. And calm down—your wings are going faster than I’ve even seen. I swear, you’re jumpier than a pelt flea on fire today.”

  “The Speaker is—” my teeth clicked together as the Pixie spoke over me.

  “One moment. Done!” Kratitha looked up in triumph. “Mandamon. Appointment with Speaker was successful? Was anticipating you back sooner.” She buzzed to another table, half walking, half flying. “See the new motion control for the System Beast? We think it may provide better autonomy when—”

  I barely got my mouth open this time.

  “When it has to switch interaction targets,” Gompt interrupted. “I also thought it would fit in the casing better and provide better control.” She followed the Pixie a few steps. “Kratitha, my glasses, remember?”

  Kratitha held the lenses in front of her multifaceted eyes once more, then gave them absently to the Festuour before peering into the interior of our largest prototype System Beast, created in the shape of a Kirian Ethulina pullbeast.

  Gompt thrust her glasses back on her snout, blinking through them with bright blue eyes. They were slightly askew from Kratitha’s ministrations, and Gompt tried to straighten the frame. “Now how did the interview go? Did Speaker Thurapo agree? By what date do we need this ready?” She thumped the casing on the Ethulina, causing Kratitha to jump in surprise. Her head had nearly been enclosed in the pullbeast’s interior. “Kratitha, did you do something to my glasses? They work…better.”

  “Ground left lens slightly,” Kratitha said. “Focus was off. Also adjusted focal length with—”

  I drew a deep breath, then shouted, “Speaker Thurapo is dead!”

  There was silence, as both Gompt and Kratitha stared at me, open-mouthed.

  I took the model Festuour from my vest pocket. It was the first working System Beast Gompt had made. She’d come straight to the maji from her friend group on Festuour, at an early age. They had moved with her to the Imperium, but she still didn’t get to see them often. I think the model may have been a subconscious attempt to give her another of her species she could relate to. The three of us had grown closer since then.

  I handed the model back to Gompt.

  “Worse than that, the Speaker held a list of members of the Society. We could be shut down if the Great Assembly finds out about us and our…resource acquisition.” I frowned. “Or some of the experiments other members have performed.”

  “Who would kill Speaker Thurapo?” Kratitha asked. Her wings were buzzing in agitation—an emotion I could easily agree with. “Must have just happened.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to discover,” I said, and briefly described the scene I found in the Speaker’s study, the missing list, and how I left his body.

  “What is Moortlin doing about this?” Gompt asked.

  I drew another breath. “They have tasked me with finding the killer and returning the list of names. They said they were too well known to do it, and you know how paranoid they are.” I waved a hand in exasperation. “They didn’t want to tell anyone else about the problem.”

  “Well, they are head of House of Healing,” Kratitha said. She tapped a wrench into one blueish hand. “When do we start?”

  “Right now.” I nodded to the Pixie. She was a rarity among the small beings, as most Pixies belonged to the warrior class. The other species looked down upon them as being less intelligent. Kratitha was one of the declining scientist class, and made sure others knew it. The slow death of her class resulted from some world war fifty-odd cycles ago—a lifetime for the short-lived species.

  “Aegrino is cleaning up the mess in the Speaker’s study,” I began, “but Moortlin wants me to search out the killer.”

  “Because you are Investigator, yes yes.” Kratitha was nodding along.

  Gompt had one furry finger raised, mouth open, as if about to make the same point. She glared at the Pixie.

  “We must start at the beginning then.” Gompt said. “Why was the Speaker killed? Who has cause to know about the Society? Who benefits from giving away the list of members? Are they being paid by someone, or working for themselves?”

  I didn’t miss Gompt’s accusation, and neither did Kratitha. “Assume two-house member was paid to give it away?” she asked.

  “Or was blackmailed. Who else would even have known, with our enforced silence?” Gompt replied. “How would they get around the geas? That jingle is enough to drive anyone mad—even before it incapacitated them—if they tried to bypass it to show off a list of Society names.”

  Kratitha’s hands clasped tightly together. “Might be circumvented. Two-house maji have many resources.” She scuttled to the prototype, absently checking torque on the System Beast’s bolts.

  I watched her, tugging my beard in thought. The Ethulina pullbeast was a work of art. We’d formed the mane of crested feathers from crystal slivers that reflected light, and the claw-hooves were of solid steel, etched with filigree. Kratitha and Gompt had spent a ten-day attaching wooden representations of the scales along its body, hiding the service hatches—one of which the Pixie had open now. She flipped several switches and the pullbeast raised one forehoof, which split into separate digits. Even though the System Beast imitated a draft animal, we had increased its dexterity to allow for grasping and holding.

  The creature was starting to look as impressive as we first imagined, and its mannerisms were almost entirely lifelike, with the latest adjustments to the gearing ratios. The model I would have shown the Speaker was a toy compared with our masterpiece. We had to bring this to the Assembly, and demonstrate how the System Beast project could help our culture. They could be used as servants, and recorders, but also as a way for physical invalids to interact with the rest of the Nether. Our customers would think of many more uses once our creations were public.

  That meant we had to find the killer, and the list.

  “The geas hasn’t failed in nearly three hundred cycles, to hear Moortlin talk,” I said. “I’m sure they’ve tested it extensively.” What am I missing? “Did someone find the list by accident?”

  “And give it to the Speaker? And then kill him?” Gompt asked. “Why? The list would be meaningless to one who doesn’t know what the Society is—just a list of names with words after them.”

  “Important point,” Kratitha said.

  “So only a Society member would know what the list meant, but would have to get around the geas to give it to the Speaker,” I said. “Someone outside wouldn’t have access to the list, but would have no trouble transporting it to the Speaker. I still don’t see the motive to kill him.”

  “You didn’t send any information on ahead of your appointment, did you?” Gompt asked. “The list could have been stuck to another page like a suckerfish on a whale.”

 
“Now you think I did it?” I raised my eyebrows at the Festuour.

  Kratitha tsked from where she was studying a selection of springs. “Not suspecting. Could have been an unfortunate accident. Maybe no one guilty. Or could have been coercion. Ah!” She picked a coil of wire out and fluttered back to the prototype, fitting it in the head cavity. “Might fix the head stutter issue.”

  Gompt’s attention was diverted. “Does it match the calculations on the harmonics in the House of Grace?” she asked. “I’ve been looking for the right tension constant for three days.”

  “If we could attend to the murder and the Society being shut down?” I suggested. Gompt and Kratitha both turned to me, looking chagrined. “I sent the proposal to the Speaker myself last ten-day. There were no extra papers included. Even if we limit our search to Society members, and I think that’s a better guess, we can’t just ask everyone whether they’re plotting to shut us down.”

  The two considered, and I looked around the workshop for inspiration. The numerous small automatons—previous attempts at System Beasts, on a lesser scale—stared back. The full-size prototype was the first of its kind. Others had exposed gearing, or no coverings at all. The skeletal face of a rodent-shaped beast peered at me from one shelf, its lidless eyes frozen in a glassy stare. Its beat in the Symphony of Potential was mechanical, a representation of the System’s artificial construct. “Is there a way to use the prototypes to gather information?” I asked.

  Gompt followed my gaze. “I suppose I could alter the gearing in some of the old ones to record waveforms, and leave them around the mansion,” she said. “We might happen on important information.”

  “Too long,” Kratitha argued. “Need quick answer, before killer gets too far with list.” She waved her wrench vaguely, taking in the Nether as a whole.

  “I can adjust a few,” Gompt protested. She held up the model I’d taken to the Speaker’s office this morning. The little figure held a tiny drum, which disguised a wax cylinder, where the figure could inscribe sums. “I can change the gearing to make it write sound waves rather than mathematical figures.”

  Kratitha, drawn as ever by a challenge, drifted forward. “Will have to account for sound wave distortion,” she said. “House of Grace can help in cutting out noise, but will need to tune System powering it.”

  “The smaller scale can be used to filter the lower register,” Gompt said, lifting the figure out of the Pixie’s grasping fingers. “There are a few others I can adjust the same way.”

  “New algorithm must be altered for differences in size and shape—” Kratitha was already searching the standing, half-disassembled prototypes. “Ah. This one.” She pointed to a System Beast in the form of a sticky lizard, with adhesive feet made to climb walls. It was missing its tail and lower jaw, but it carried a similar wax cylinder on its back, a stylus positioned nearby. We had played with replicating animal sounds with this one. It would work even better than the one Gompt held.

  “This will require what, two or three lightenings to adjust?” I asked. “Moortlin wants this tied up as quickly as possible—today, if we can.”

  “If we get the gearing right the first time,” Gompt said. She played with her glasses thoughtfully. “What do you think, Kratitha?”

  “Two lightenings, maximum,” Kratitha said, still tapping sections of the lizard. “Can finish while you investigate Society members.” She looked back at us, compound eyes reflecting many facets of the room. “Go, go. Will work here. Talk to others to save time.”

  “I guess that’s our dismissal,” I told Gompt. In truth, I was having trouble keeping my hand from drifting to my chronograph. I wondered if Aegrino had intercepted Speaker Thurapo’s secretary in time. Or did she find the body?

  “Remember to account for the waveform distribution of the System Beast so we don’t pick up any echoes this time,” Gompt called as I propelled her out with a hand on her furry arm. Kratitha waved a hand in acknowledgement.

  We strolled out of the workshop, picking a direction in the mansion largely by happenstance. We had only gotten a few paces down the hall before Gompt began a rumbling hum, thinking.

  “You’re right. We can’t ask every member of the Society where they’ve been and what their motivations are.”

  “I don’t even know half the members,” I said. “You’ve been here longer than me.”

  “Only by a few ten-days,” Gompt replied. “Kratitha was here several months before me, but I doubt she’s gone to any lengths to meet others. Keeps her head down lower than a racing canis on the scent.”

  I added combinations in my head. “Six houses, fifteen combinations of two-house member abilities—”

  “Though not all equally represented,” Gompt added.

  “True, but with a hundred and some members in the Society, there must be at least two or three of each type. Could a specific combination affect the geas?”

  “Maybe,” Gompt adjusted the bandolier that held her favorite selection of tools. Festuour liked accessories—hats, glasses, scarves, belts, and bandoliers—more than clothes. There was little point with all that fur. “But I’m nigh certain I’ve heard Moortlin say the geas was built up from all six houses. Hard for one majus to get around that.”

  “So you’re saying it could be more than one?” I wasn’t ready to dig a conspiracy out of a secret society. That felt like one too many layers.

  Gompt waggled a three-fingered paw as we turned into the next hallway, where some of the Society’s clinical studies took place. “Possible, but I doubt it. What about the section of the list you found? Whose names were on it? They might be ones the Speaker was paying more attention to.”

  In the interest of time, it was a good place to start. I thought back. “The three of us,” I began. “That would be the Houses of Potential and Healing for me, and Potential and Grace for you—”

  “And Kratitha would be Grace and Power.” Gompt was nodding along.

  “Moortlin was on the list as well, and they’re a Biologist—Houses of Strength and Healing.” That’s odd. “In fact, I’m surprised Moortlin was not more concerned about their name getting out, considering their place on the Council.”

  “I’m sure they’ve got the politics of this all tied up. Have you ever heard Moortlin sound unsure about anything?” Gompt peered at me over her spectacles. “How inept would the Council be to let a scandal take down its members? Anyway, as secretive as the friendless old root is, I can’t believe they had anything to do with this. What about the other names?”

  “If we discount us and the Benish…” I searched through my hazy memory. Both names had been familiar. “One was Tethan, of the Houses of Strength and Power.”

  “So an Overwhelm,” Gompt said. We walked up a staircase, passing a Lobath talking with another Festuour in hushed tones. Gompt watched the one of her species as we passed, but the Festuour didn’t notice her.

  “What are their strengths?” I asked. I hadn’t seen an Overwhelm in action.

  “Strength and Power give some ability to push others to do what they want, and to pry objects apart into components,” Gompt said. “If anyone could take apart the geas, an Overwhelm could. Sounds fishy to me.”

  I had to admit my friend was right, but my memory of Tethan was of a small, frail Sathssn. “Have you seen her recently?”

  Gompt shrugged. “I went up to her room to ask her a question once about the System Beasts responding to chemical signals.”

  “I doubt she’s murdered more than a hot meal in cycles,” I said.

  “Still prudent to follow every lead, and this is all we have right now,” Gompt said. The maji who lived here would have apartments in their primary House back in the Imperium, but I had found most in the Society preferred the obscurity of Poler, desiring to follow their own studies without interruption, or any distracting ethical questions.

  We found Tethan on the third level, tucked into a corner of the mansion. The sprawling house was bi
g enough for new members to get lost in. I’d lost my way frequently in my first few ten-days.

  I knocked on the red painted door of the majus’ room. Gompt and I traded glances at the chorus of thumps and complaints coming from inside. There was another clatter, as if a stack of plates had fallen to the floor.

  “Maybe later?” Gompt suggested, and I almost stepped away when the doorknob rattled.

  The red painted wood opened a crack and a slitted red and yellow eye, surrounded by gray-green scales peeked out.

  “Yes? You are here about the pipes?”

  “Ah—Majus Tethan?” I asked, somewhat at a loss.

  “Yes. That is me. I have been sending messages about the pipes for ten-days now. You, come in.”

  The door rattled closed, and Gompt frowned at the sounds of metal latches being unfastened. Then the door opened again, showing an ancient Sathssn, gray of scale and shaky, with white wisps of hair floating around her head. I was nearly as surprised at her age as I was at the lack of coverings. Tethan wore no cowl, had on short sleeves, and her tunic was dark blue—something I had never seen on a Sathssn.

  “I thought they all wore black?” Gompt whispered. Tethan peered at us as if she had heard something, then shook her head and gestured with a scaled hand for us to come in. A short black skirt covered the majus only halfway down her legs, and below she wore open sandals rather than the more common enclosed boots.

  We followed the old Sathssn inside and Tethan hobbled around us to close and latch the door again.

  “Now, my pipes, they have been squeaking for months, but Moortlin refuses to send anyone up here.” Tethan shuffled around to look at us, then away, leading us farther into the apartment. “At least until now.”

  The room was uncomfortably warm, and I pulled at the collar of my shirt as Gompt opened her mouth in a pant. Books were stacked everywhere, with trinkets, statues, and little plates piled on top as if the books were plinths. It was a collection of plates that had tumbled to the floor by the door.