Gompt snapped her furry fingers. “That’s how Aegrino could affect the entire mansion at once.”
“After he was dead, I might add, which is the more impressive part of it.” I looked up at the single streetlight, its light glinting off the metal of the Ethulina’s hooves. It was one of the majus-fueled ones. There’s still something that doesn’t add up. “How did Aegrino get hold of the resonator wand, if you had it?” I asked.
Kratitha shrugged. “Found it in the workshop? Meant to tell you about it, but kept slipping my mind.”
“He must have picked it up before last night. The Speaker was killed early this morning.” The messy cut through the Speaker’s throat was similar to the slices in Aegrino’s chest. “But then how did he fake his death? Those wounds were lethal.”
“He was…is a Dancer—Communication and Grace,” Gompt said. “Both houses can be subtle. Maybe we didn’t actually see what we thought we did.”
Kratitha’s wings were buzzing again. “House of Grace could couple with Communication to mask signs of life? Breath?”
“Could be.” Now Gompt looked thoughtful. “Neither of us hears Communication, but I’ve heard talk it’s good for messing with what others hear or say.”
“Grace musical component acts as helping component. Increases efficiency. Smooths flaws.” Kratitha suggested, the light reflecting off her compound eyes.
I put my hands on my hips. “So, he dulled his vital signs with the House of Grace, and interfered with us detecting them with Communication,” Why pretend to be dead in the first place? “Could he have conjured up great slashes in his chest? Those looked—and felt—pretty fatal.” I looked at my hands. “If I hadn’t sterilized and cleaned my fingers after touching the body, I could test for fakery with the Symphony of Healing. Too late now.”
The others were silent.
“You’re sure it was Aegrino? Not another Etanela?” I asked Kratitha. There were a suspicious number of the tall species involved.
She buzzed her wings, lifting off the ground for a moment. “Had the harmonic resonator, very tall, came from records room, saw blood on front of shirt, golden hair, yes? Who else?”
I stroked my beard. “Aegrino was very convincingly surprised when we told him Speaker Thurapo was dead. He even seemed to know Thurapo. Said he had to tell his sister.”
“House of Communication again?” Gompt asked. “So, Aegrino’s better at lying than being a record keeper.” She pushed up her glasses and glanced around the dim intersection. “Though that still doesn’t explain why he would steal his own list, give it to the Speaker, then kill him.”
Kratitha’s wings trembled above her head, a sign of nervousness. “Two Etanela victims. Some species rivalry? Or blackmail to steal list.” She turned away from us and toward the pullbeast, running a hand down its flank.
Why is she nervous? Is she scared she followed a murderer?
“Moortlin mentioned a specist crime.” Gompt ran a hand across her belt of tools, as if to check they were all there. “It’s right weird. I can’t see how murder has anything to do with a missing list of Society members.”
“Maybe Aegrino found way around geas by communication with another member of species?” Kratitha suggested. She was still turned away.
“I’ve never been able to do anything like that,” I said, “and I’ve talked to plenty of Methiemum.”
“Also not House of Communication,” Kratitha said.
“One way to find out.” I stood beside the Pixie and opened the hatch at the Ethulina’s neck. I set it to follow us. If Aegrino was the murderer, we’d need all the help we could get against another two-house majus. I also took the time to watch Kratitha. She was trembling, but I’d only caught it because I was looking for it.
What is going on with her?
“We need to find Aegrino quickly.” I said. “If he’s found a way around the geas, and wants to bring down the Society, it will ruin any chance we have of bringing the System Beasts to market.”
“And any other inventions after,” Gompt added. “Might even harm other products invented in the Society.”
“Didn’t see where he went after was hit.” Kratitha gestured around the dim streets. “Which direction?”
The single streetlight overhead went out with a crack of glass.
“Gompt? Kratitha?” Their queries greeted me, and heard the scrape of metal on rock as the Ethulina moved a hoof. The Nether’s walls, towering over Poler, provided faint light, but only enough to see shapes, once my eyes adjusted.
Wings buzzed, and I felt a gust as Kratitha flitted by. “Saw movement over here,” she said. Pixie eyes must adjust to light changes quicker. Aegrino might not have gone that far after all.
Gompt and I groped after our colleague’s voice. “Can’t see a blamed thing,” Gompt muttered. The ping and clop of hooves sounded behind. The pullbeast was following.
“Gompt, number four spanner,” Kratitha called, and I heard the Festuour fumble in one of her pouches. There was a whizz in the air in front of us, and something clattered, farther down an alley.
“Kratitha, did you throw my best spanner?” Gompt’s voice was a low growl.
“Missed him too,” Kratitha said. She seemed unaffected by the growl that put the hairs on my arms on end. Maybe Pixies don’t have a large evolutionary predator covered with fur.
“We’ll get it back,” I said quickly. “Won’t we, Kratitha?”
“Yes yes,” she said. “This way. Might be good time to listen to Symphony?”
My eyes were adjusting, stone walls passing on both sides as we rattled down the streets of Poler. I heard Gompt grunt and sweep something from the ground.
“The shaft’s nicked,” she grumbled at Kratitha’s wings.
“Will buff it out later,” Kratitha called back. “Trying to listen to connections in House of Power. Might be trying to flank.”
The Symphonies of Potential and Healing were a chaotic arpeggio of changing energy. Kratitha was a fugue of notes—a master belting out a constantly changing stream of rhythm. Gompt was a lower, solid beat with a rumbling base line driving forward. I tuned out the mechanical repetition of the pullbeast, as there was another theme, buried underneath the top layer of music. This contained long, languid sweeps of melody, increasing and decreasing in pitch. Was that Aegrino? I tried to remember what I had heard around his body, but it had been too long ago.
“He’s going left,” I called, and we swerved onto a side street where a few lights still shone. These were kerosene, not powered by maji.
We pulled to a stop, but the Ethulina sped past, as if seeking revenge for being made to fight its creators. At the end of the street, back to a wall, was a tall figure, certainly an Etanela. He was holding a long object.
My resonator!
The resonator flashed in the air, and the pullbeast jerked, its feet tumbling over each other. It sprawled in the grass, just a pile of connected limbs. Rage built in me. There was too much time invested in the System Beast for Aegrino to destroy it.
“Don’t let him hurt it more!” Gompt cried. She must have been thinking the same as I was. “Careful—he’s got Communication and Grace.”
“Can handle Grace,” Kratitha said, flying forward toward the prone pullbeast.
Below her, the street ruptured, throwing cobbles in all directions. I shielded my face with an arm, but could hear the deep thump of the stones hitting grass, and the patter of water falling down in a shower.
When I looked again, a blue glow surrounded broken clay pipes, poking up from the street. Water puddled around it. Aegrino had used my invention to make the System in a water pipe go haywire. My teeth ground together at the misuse, the casual destruction.
Kratitha was on the ground, one wing bent back, a ragged piece missing from the top. A cobble must have grazed her. She reached an arm behind her to assess the damage.
Gompt and I rushed forward together, but skidded to a halt as th
e air flashed like glass, reflecting dim light back toward the walls and streetlights. Gompt yelled and clapped a hand to her side.
“What was that?” I called. The glass-like reflection in the air was gone, and I swiveled side to side, trying to see if there was anything left. There had been a sting of sound in the Symphonies—both Symphonies—when it happened.
“Don’t come closer,” Aegrino called out, his voice was nervous in the clear night air, higher than the record keeper’s usual timbre. His mop of golden hair wavered like a cloud above his head as he checked the dead end behind him. There wasn’t much light, but I thought I could see dark blotches on his shirt. With the wounds I’d seen, I had no idea how he was standing.
“Give me back the harmonic resonator,” I called out “And the list of—” my mouth rebelled at me and that annoying jingle of music played, scattering my thoughts. “The names you have.” He’ll know what I mean.
“I’m afraid I can’t.” Aegrino’s words slurred together, as Etanela’s speech did when they were excited. “This is the only way to keep you maji from doing more harm. This is an excellent weapon to reveal your secrets.”
Kratitha yelled and dove forward, but she was slow. What was left of her left wing membrane trembled, not in concert with the right. Aegrino turned the wand toward her and pushed a button. Another splash of sound played through my head.
“Stop, Kratitha!” I called, but it was too late. The slivers of light appeared again, right in front of the Pixie and she screamed, falling back. Brown blood splattered on the Ethulina, and trickled down Kratitha’s arms and front.
“Best not to rush in here,” Gompt said, to my left. “Aegrino’s a trained majus. He’s skilled in the Symphonies of Communication and Grace, so why ain’t he using them? Why is he talking about the maji like that? Wasn’t his shirt a different color when we found him ‘dead?’”
It’s not Aegrino?
“I’m getting past you,” the figure said. “Don’t follow me, or I’ll carve you up, maji or not!”
“Don’t know if even the House of Grace can avoid those spikes of nothingness,” Gompt said. “Do you hear that resonance in the Symphony too?”
I stared back. “I thought it was just me. It must be creating a feedback loop between the notes—”
I broke off. Just like the accident. In a split second, the memory pushed through my mind, as my hand went to the scar around my eye.
It was after dinner in my parent’s home. I showed my mentor, Abarham, how the resonator created a connection between different Systems, causing them to work in tandem. But the harmonics multiplied out of control. Walls caved in. I smelled blood and dust as a chunk of the roof crushed Abarham in front of me. A rafter nearly put out my eye.
I crawled from the wreckage, but my parents didn’t. When the Poler City Guard and the Fire Brigade arrived, they found lacerations on all three bodies. I had cuts all down my arms.
The resonances my invention made in the Symphony were so concentrated, they intruded into physical space. I’d never made the connection before, but now I did, my mind flashing through the wand’s construction.
“I know how to stop the resonator,” I told Gompt. I looked to Kratitha. She was holding hands over her arms, and blood was running down her front. “But it will take all three of us.”
“Move aside! Leave me in peace!” the figure yelled. He was trapped, with the stone wall behind him, but he’d stopped our attack with almost no effort. We couldn’t let him leave. “My friends and I won’t bother you.”
“Friends without two houses,” Gompt called back, getting around the geas’ restraints.
“Not maji at all.” Aegrino/not-Aegrino backed up, my wand held in front of him. “Just a coalition of likeminded people. We’re trying to make the Assembly a better place, but you people had to bring Juristo into this—blackmail him!”
“Who?” I had no idea who this Juristo was, and I met Gompt’s eyes, then Kratitha’s multifaceted orbs. Had they heard the same thing?
“On the way here,” Kratitha gasped out. She was crouched low. The top of her left wing was a mess of crumpled tissue. Like butterflies or bees, I didn’t know if Pixie’s wings ever healed. “Heard things while Aegrino—or this person,” she jerked a thumb toward our antagonist, “spoke to weird Sathssn.”
“We found the place,” Gompt said. “Slitho and Harha, right?” The Pixie cocked her head at us, then nodded.
“It was to protect Juristo! You didn’t even know his name?” Aegrino/not-Aegrino called. “Back away and we can all leave in peace.” The figured shuffled his feet back and forth, as if he were about to run between us. I wasn’t going to let that happen.
“You’ve murdered another Etanela,” I shouted back. “Maybe two. We’ll track you anywhere you go.”
A shift in the figure’s stance told me he’d decided to attack again rather than run at us, so I was ready this time when he pushed a button. He knew how to use the resonator, but I guessed he didn’t know everything, especially if Kratitha had tinkered with it.
The wave of harmonics was like a pipe organ overriding the Symphony, all notes tuned to the same key, playing concert. It pushed into the Symphonies of Healing and Potential, and disturbances in the air reflected the faint light from the streetlight and fading walls of the Nether, traveling toward us like shards of thrown glass.
They’ll slice us to ribbons. Don’t have time to explain the change using all three of us.
I did the best I could with an instant’s thought.
The notes in the Symphony of Potential were overwhelmed with the harmonics, and I took notes from my being to change them, bridge the gaps, and let those powerful chords become part of my being. I absorbed the energy into myself, knowing it would rip my bones apart and shred my muscles. Fortunately I had more than one house.
The Symphony of Healing was a riot of disruptions, Gompt and Kratitha’s notes unraveling despite me taking the brunt of the attack. As if in slow motion, I could see fur separating on Gompt’s torso, skin tearing.
I took more notes from my being, and altered the monoliths of noise, bridging from melody to melody in the Symphony of Healing, dispersing the harmonics between different branches of music.
I was dimly aware that I was on my knees. The energy I had taken in with the Symphony of Potential threatened to shake me apart. I stole yet more notes from the melody that made up my being, dispersing the energy. My fingers felt like they were on fire, my heart hammering. Kratitha screamed, and out of the corner of my eye I saw a line of brown open from her forearm to wrist.
I won’t let what happened to Abarham and my parents happen again.
I took more of the resonance into myself, breaking it into component notes, changing tempo and key so they could no longer harmonize. I could not reclaim these notes, and it would take many days to rebuild my song.
I shook, pitching forward, then realized the wall of sound had ceased.
I raised my head. My eyesight was blurry, my hands trembling, as if I had touched one of the live wires transmitting electricity to the new lights in the mansion.
“What? You should be dead!” Not-Aegrino was adjusting settings on my device. “It was an accident before, but I remember. I remember.”
I waved my shaking hands at my friends to come closer so I could explain. Gompt was bleeding from her chest, but the cuts were shallow. Kratitha was in worse shape, but the little Pixie limped over, her head high.
“Must keep resonant harmonics from—ow—from forming,” she said.
“That’s right.” My shaking was subsiding. “The harmonic resonator combines available melodies into a harmony. If prevented, I believe the energy will feed back into the device.”
“You believe?” Gompt said. Her voice was raw.
“It’s the best chance we have,” I said, watching the figure standing at the end of the street. “Listen to your Symphonies. Keep the melodies from harmonizing. It will be hard, b
ut we only need to hold the changes for a few seconds. We can try—” I broke off, seeing the other figure look up. “No time. Get ready.”
The others spun around, as not-Aegrino raised the wand. I could already hear strands of the Symphony of Potential wavering, tones speeding or slowing to fall into a rhythm. I took more notes from my song. It’s so bare of music. The notes would return over time, but it would take many more experiences for me to grow back to my full potential.
I inserted my notes like bookmarks between pages, keeping them from sticking together. This was not a carefully crafted change, but creating music with no theme, stuffing notes into both Symphonies that did not belong in the beautiful, natural music of the universe. I could hear Gompt doing the same thing in the Symphony of Potential.
Auras surrounded the three of us in the colors of our houses, visible only to another majus, blue and brown for Gompt, white and brown around me, and blue and orange around Kratitha. Sparks filled the air, dancing off motes of dust, and blinding me for a moment. I heard a crack of stone, and a twisting, splintering noise of wood exploding. Seconds later, I turned my head away as tiny slivers pelted my face, dropping away harmlessly.
When my vision returned, a line of cobbles in front of me was fractured. The streetlight danced with flame, the entire globe around the light engulfed in fire. A nearby bush was wilted, dropping leaves, and Gompt’s fur shone with ice.
“It worked!” Gompt called, and I looked up. The figure was braced against the wall, my invention a shredded mess. Even from this distance, I could see splinters of wood and metal imbedded in his bluish hands. More blood dotted his shirt, where slivers had driven into his chest.
Gompt rushed forward, past the prone System Beast, and I followed, puffing as if I had raced across Poler. Kratitha came behind, but she was slow, obviously hurting.
Our antagonist struggled up, but Gompt got there first, checking the other person with a massive shoulder. He staggered against the wall and Gompt clamped both furry paws—strong from months of crafting in the workshop—on his arms.
Tales of the Dissolutionverse Box Set Page 42
