by Jon Chaisson
*
Nehalé was exhausted. He needed to get some rest soon, even just to close his eyes for a few minutes. There were now over five thousand people here, filling up nearly three-quarters of the warehouse, all under his care now. Some had clustered into talkative packs in the vacant nooks where machinery once stood, while others had taken refuge within the remaining storage racks to create a flat house type of shelter. Nehalé had made it a point to prove to these people that he was Mendaihu as they were, on the same level and not a prophet or elder above their stature. He’d spent the entire afternoon making the rounds and talking with whoever wished to speak with him, and there had been many. It had been slow going, but it had been worth it. He’d also been able to get a bead on the signatures of a good number of people here. He didn’t want a repeat of the church, or the awakening ritual. He learned his lesson…he didn’t want to relive that knife-pain of spirit loss again. If he lost anyone else, he needed to know who they were.
He returned to the main office area to calm himself down and relax, when he found Anando standing near the stairway, talking to two younger women who were listening to his words with middling fascination. He grinned, wondering what the kid could possibly be doing to impress them, because it obviously wasn’t working. He made his way over to them, but the girls had bid farewell and walked away before he could introduce himself.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Anando said. “I could say the same words you do, with the same conviction, and yet you somehow win people over. I just bore them.”
Nehalé laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “You don’t bore them, my friend, you’re just not speaking from the heart.” He prodded at Anando’s chest with his fingers. “Your heart, Anando. Not mine, nor theirs. It’s not about conviction…it’s about belief.”
Anando nodded and gave him a sheepish smile. “I know...it’s just hard to explain what’s going on to those who may be unwilling to fully listen. I’ve been talking with one of them off and on…Sonia’s her name. I get the feeling she and her friend are here not so much to witness or be a part of the One’s return, but to find an opportunity.”
Nehalé cocked his head at him. “How so?”
Anando hedged. “I’m not sure.”
“Even if they were, what could they do?” he said. “If that’s their plan, then they’re merely reacting. Doing the same predictable thing they always do, and it’s something we count on. Not depend on, mind you, but we can certainly use it to our advantage.”
Anando frowned at him. “Yes, but what if this is different?” he asked. “I’m not expecting the Shenaihu to take this gathering lightly. Sure, I’ve been hearing the same rumors you have, but that’s not what’s bothering me.”
Nehalé nodded slowly, and directed him into the one of the back offices to continue the conversation privately. “Of course the Shenaihu know what we’re up to,” he said. “But right now, they’re too busy falling over themselves, trying to fix all the minor problems, and in the process they’re avoiding the larger one — we Mendaihu. They’re too focused on their own side, grabbing the One of All Sacred and not paying attention to what would happen if they succeed.”
“You seem so sure that it won’t escalate,” Anando said. “I may not be a truthseer, Nehalé, but I just don’t expect them to stay quiet. Please tell me you at least have backup plans.”
As much as he wanted to reassure this young man that the probability of a fight was negligible, he could not do it. He knew there were Shenaihu planted here in the warehouse already, but they were the least of his worries now. When the girl arrived, when the One of All Sacred stepped through those doors in an hour or so, his role in this game would be over. Anything else that happened would be the One of All Sacred’s doing.
Nehalé sighed. “I can’t promise anything.”
Anando glared at him. “You started this, Nehalé. Don’t back out of it now.”
Those close-hitting words left him wincing, but before he could answer, Anando had turned and left. He thought to call him back but chose against it; the kid had a point. He alone knew exactly what he had to do to finish what he’d started, and he had purposely not given anyone the full details. Any non-action on his part would have looked like inaction to anyone else, and in effect any explanation after the fact would have sounded like an excuse. He forgave Anando his moment of frustration…the kid understood quite well what was going on and what he had to do on his own. His words were borne of impatience and fear. The awakening had affected him significantly more than he’d expected, and he was still flailing without a spiritual anchor. He willingly accepted his current role, but it would take time for him to adjust.
He poked his head out one of the side entrances to check on the oncoming rainstorm. It was yet to start raining but the darkening gray clouds were now directly above the Sprawl, and the temperature had fallen significantly. He thought of the Rain of Light he had witnessed days ago, on the roof of his apartment in Branden Hill. That delicate ballet of spirit energies dancing peacefully over the city, skimming the Mirades Tower, showering down on the Sprawl…the cycle had been healthy, growing stronger and brighter. His original plan had been to let this Rain cycle and recycle itself until it grew and became self-sufficient enough to become a life channel for the recently awakened. The hrrah-sehdhyn had affected the cycle somehow, perverted it, enough to affect the physical plane. This was where he was at a loss…he couldn’t quite grasp why it had happened, and how he could stop it at this time. An overwhelming sense of sadness and failure had washed over him, realizing the loss of innocence he had witnessed from that rooftop, and how he had not thought twice about it, too wrapped up in preparation for this so-called ‘spiritual war.’ Not even the knowledge that he would in just a few hours see the One of All Sacred, the savior he had worked for so long to bring into this world, could lift his melancholia. The cold breeze picked up; suddenly shivering, he drew the collar of his jacket closer and pulled himself back into the building, and secured the door.
Somfei, edha Usarai.
Nehalé spun around, looking for the source of the unfamiliar voice.
Do not be so hard on yourself, edha, the woman said. You are closer to the truth than you think you are, you just need to clear your vision before you can truly see it.
He scanned the crowd before him. There were at least thirty people close by, and nearly all were distracted by their own conversations both within and aloud. Eventually his eyes landed on a slender Meraladian woman, standing twenty feet away and separated from the crowd. She was leaning up against a wall with her arms crossed and looking elsewhere, but he recognized her immediately.
Somfei, emha Udéma, he said, surprised and more than a little confused. What was one of Governor Rieflin’s round table members doing here?
A smile crossed Mancka Udéma’s face and pushed herself off the wall, and made her way towards him. She had a look of determination and conviction in her eyes, which made Nehalé nervous. She might have been here to witness the return of the One, but she had more than just that on her mind.
“I admit I’m surprised to see you here, Councilor Udéma,” he said, bowing slightly in her direction. She had a classic Mannaki build, somewhat taller and larger than a normal human but a much lighter skin tone than a Meraladian, and she was well toned in muscle. For some reason he’d always imagined her as timid, if only because she was the quietest member of the Governor’s Council, rarely speaking during the Council’s public outings unless prompted. The conviction she exuded made sense to him, now that he could sense her spirit so clearly before him…she was a true Mendaihu Watcher, listening and processing and only speaking when necessary.
“I assure you, I am here of my own will,” she said, and flashed another smile at him. “I caught your speech earlier…”
“Oh?” He offered his arm and walked with her back towards the mezzanine. “I admit, it was a bit unrehearsed…”
“Sometimes the intent comes through clearer that way, edha,” she said.
“Please, call me Nehalé.” He let her go first up the stairs up to the platform he’d stood on a few hours earlier, and followed behind. “I must agree at any rate. Had I come with a prewritten soliloquy, I’m sure half the crowd would have booed me off the stage.”
Mancka’s laugh filled the air. It was a distinctively Mannaki laugh, a quick fit of high-pitched giggling and ending with a satisfied sigh, a trait he’d heard from no one except direct descendants of that outpost planet. It was a trivial and unlikely trait that had no basis in fact except for in his own experience, but it had done its job; he had instantly felt relaxed and safe in her presence. He played along, his mind already in motion. Her ancestors must have been part of the first landing party on Earth, which said quite a bit; there was a good chance she knew the history behind the One of All Sacred on this planet. As they entered one of the rear offices on the mezzanine, he asked her point blank about all this.
“Why yes,” she smiled. “One of my matriarchs was a child at the time of the flight. She eventually became part of the new provincial government, holding the same title I have now, for close to fifteen years.”
“You must be proud,” he said, profoundly impressed.
“Yes, I am. It’s an honor to be doing the same thing she did. Now, Nehalé…I must ask you a few questions, before anything else happens here. I ask both as a Mendaihu, and as a Provincial Representative. But I am not here to judge, edha. I am a Mendaihu first and foremost…I observe. I do not judge, lest I be judged.”
Nehalé appreciated her words, and had expected them. “Ask away.”
She nodded, and took a seat on the edge of lone desk in the room. She focused her eyes on the floor, taking her time to organize her thoughts before she spoke again. “Nehalé…I must ask this. Why are you summoning the One of All Sacred?”
Nehalé blinked, surprised by the simplicity of the question. “It was prophecy, Mancka. It was foretold by Kindeiya Shalei.”
He did not like her reaction to the name, but continued to tell her of his constant discussions both at the Mirades Tower and here in the Waterfront Sector. Kindeiya Shalei was very blunt with his words, one who would foretell events as he saw them, without fanfare or flourish. Because of this, he was not a very popular as a reality seer. His discussions on the One of All Sacred bordered on fanatical, as if he’d been waiting impatiently for the deity much longer than he wanted to admit.
“Denysia has already awakened as the Ninth Embodiment then,” she said.
“Yes. I’m unsure of her whereabouts, but Kindeiya says she will be here shortly.”
She seemed appeased by that answer and continued. “I must also ask, edha…what really happened at St. Patrick’s?”
He consciously rubbed the fresh scar above his eye, and looked away. So many lives, so many spirits forcibly pulled away… “Is this for a report, or off the record?”
“Nehalé?” she started.
He glanced at her, then away again. “I’m okay, Mancka. They’re just memories I’d rather not have to relive so soon.” He summoned up his courage, looked her in the eyes, and told his story. He left nothing out, as he had no reason to keep anything from a Watcher of her stature. He trusted that she would understand. Once he’d finished, he remained quiet for a long time afterwards, and she did not prod him. “The truth is, I’m not entirely sure what happened,” he said eventually. “Or why. If the Shenaihu want the One of All Sacred so badly…taking her by force has to be one of the most miscalculated ideas I’ve ever seen. Perhaps with your background you can explain that to me.”
She reached out a hand and touched him on the shoulder. “I promise I will. But I must ask one more question.”
Nehalé nodded again, more exhausted than ever. His fatigue added to the sadness he’d felt earlier, the antithesis of what he should be feeling, the elation and love and energy that saturated the air below them. Instead, he felt dejected and completely alone.
“Nehalé…” she paused. Her sudden silence disturbed him, and he was forced to face her again. Compassion filled her eyes, as if realizing he had never known all the facts in this convoluted game of spirits, and chose to take pity on him. He frowned, not exactly sure what to expect.
“Nehalé,” she started again. “For this last question, we must go elsewhere.”
He completely understood, and closed his eyes…