“True.” A pause. “Perhaps you should consider working with her just a bit longer so you can test the strength of her talent. It might help in deciding.”
“An excellent suggestion. I shall do so.”
As they watched Lyonesse’s sun kiss the horizon, Marta said, “I’ve never seen the green flash you islanders think is one of this world’s great wonders. Does it even exist, or are you putting me on?”
“It exists, and I’ve witnessed it, but the atmospheric conditions must be just so, and that happens only a few times a year.”
“How about now?” Marta gestured at the horizon with a deeply tanned hand.
“No idea.” Amelia gave her former teacher a wry smile. “As you might recall, even in your state of extreme fatigue, I’m trained as a psychiatrist, not a meteorologist.”
A few minutes passed while the sun transformed the lagoon’s rippling surface into liquid metal reflecting the heat of a thousand furnaces. The last moments of a tropical sunset passed with the rapidity Marta expected. But for a fraction of a second, a green glow seemed to overlay that final burst of light, and she gasped at the transcendent beauty.
“The atmospheric conditions were ideal.”
“I know.”
**
Seled, clad in a sister’s tropical lightweight one-piece garment, stopped on the threshold of Marta’s training room, and bowed at the waist.
“Sister.”
Marta, already sitting in the lotus position on the mat, returned her formal greeting with an equally grave nod.
“Please enter and sit.”
The former convict obeyed and settled on the mat facing her teacher. Their eyes met without hesitation or embarrassment.
“I am ready.”
“As before, enter the meditative trance and allow me into your mind. Once you achieve balance, try to open your third eye again.”
“Yes, Sister.” Seled closed her eyes and slowed her breathing rhythm until it matched Marta’s.
The latter reached out with her mental fingers and felt Seled’s shields dissolve, revealing once more a curiously empty mind with the gaping hole where her chaotic disorder once lived. She truly felt unfinished, as if the Almighty stopped her development in early adulthood, or perhaps even before. But Seled’s aura was suffused with the same calm as that of any other sister, the same serenity, and inner peace. Though Marta knew nothing about the old Seled, other than what was recorded in her file, she’d sat in on Amelia’s regular sessions with Supermax inmates and experienced firsthand the sickness that ate at their minds and rotted their souls.
The lid covering Seled’s third eye trembled — or at least that was how Marta visualized something no one could adequately describe. The previous day, her eye opened just enough to prove it could do so, but without allowing Marta more than a momentary glimpse of what lay behind.
With a suddenness that left Marta dumbfounded, the eye opened wide and unleashed a wave of horror that left her feeling as if she were suffocating. Her heart rate shot up as her mind slammed shut.
She broke out of the meditative trance and saw Seled slump to the floor, unconscious. Marta reached out and touched her neck, looking for a pulse because she could not bear the idea of checking on the former inmate with her extrasensory abilities. Seled was merely unconscious, struck by whatever came through her third eye. Marta fished a communicator from her garment’s upper pocket. She tapped it.
“Infirmary.”
**
Mirjam sat back in her chair, looking stunned after Marta described the incident. “Heavens above. How is that even possible? I’ve never heard of the like before today.”
“We always knew our understanding of the third eye was nowhere near complete. At this point, I’d call it only rudimentary.”
Marta sounded hoarse, her tone distracted, and her eyes never resting on a single spot for more than a second or two.
“My apologies. I’m still shaken. I can only think what I saw was as close to the perfect manifestation of evil as I can conceive. If it were anyone other than me with Seled, you’d have two sisters in a coma rather than just one. We cannot go any further with Seled — if she ever wakes. Whatever is bottled inside her where no one can reach must stay there forever.”
“No arguments here. A shame, though. If there’s a whole other dimension to the personality that can only come out through a third eye, Seled would be the ideal research subject, seeing as how so much of her overt characteristics were erased during treatment. It puts a new wrinkle on your theory about the origins of certain personality disorders. Perhaps what you saw was her actual soul. They say the evil we do accumulates within us and eventually rots a soul from the inside out until nothing more than a horrific presence remains.”
Marta replied with a tired shrug.
“There are things we’re not meant to see and places we’re not meant to go. Science cannot answer every question and never will, especially when it comes to the human condition. The countless horrific genocides that resulted whenever misguided ideologues tried to improve or control that which they never understood provides irrefutable proof.”
“It’s about who exercises power over whom.” When Marta seemed about to object, Mirjam held up her hand in a restraining gesture. “Yes, that’s a simple way of summarizing a complex problem, but my words carry more than a hint of truth. Admit it.”
“I wonder whether the hidden part of Seled, what you think of as her soul, would be capable of projecting such malevolence if we had trained her at a young age like most postulants?”
“Provided your theory is correct, taking her in when she was sixteen or seventeen would likely have ensured her salvation because she wouldn’t have been tormented by her suppressed talent.”
Another shrug. “I suppose. It makes me wonder about others we trained later in life.”
“Like Stearn? If something equally horrific is hiding behind his third eye, you’d know. Mind you, he’s what? Twenty years younger than Seled? His soul can’t be corrupted by as much evil as hers was, so he should be okay.”
A tired smile briefly crossed Marta’s face. “The theologians among us would have a field day if they found out.”
“If?”
“This remains between you, me, and Gwenneth. No one else will know, especially not Seled herself when she wakes. Imagine the chaos and confusion it would create among the Brethren should we even so much as hint that I saw another’s soul through her third eye. Many of the sisters would look, and it’s my belief we’re not meant to do so. That, in fact, it would be harmful. And you will not train any more former inmates who show a hint of talent beyond teaching them to shield their minds. What happened today can never be repeated.”
Mirjam nodded formally, signifying she understood Marta’s words as a direct command. No one would dare gainsay the Order’s most gifted teacher on such matters, not even Gwenneth. Especially now that she seemed a mere shadow of her usual self.
“Understood. And Seled?”
“Her path will be as a simple healer’s assistant. We’ll tell her she lost consciousness because opening the third eye took more than she could give and leave it at that.” Marta slowly climbed to her feet. “I must sleep, and once the sun rises over Lannion, I will speak with Gwenneth. Would you be a dear and book me a seat on the next available Clipper?”
— 41 —
––––––––
Gwenneth studied Marta’s image for a few heartbeats once she finished her report. The latter looked as if she aged by several decades since their last video call.
“This development is worrisome.”
“Only if we let it worry us. The treatment program can continue, but we cannot teach those who come through anything more than simple shielding, such as we teach friars, even if they show a strong sixth sense. And any active third eye is definitely out of bounds. Knowledge of what happened to Seled must be
suppressed. So far, it’s restricted to you, Mirjam, and me. I’ve already told Mirjam she must take the secret to the grave. You and I will do the same.”
“A shame, though. But you’re right. This is not meant for us. Are you coming home?”
“On tomorrow’s Clipper. It’s best if Seled doesn’t see me again, should she ever come out of the coma. We can’t tell when or even if that’ll happen. Cautious scans by Amelia show her mind is in a catatonic state. She’s simply not there. Perhaps the remnants of her personality were sucked in by the third eye as I slammed my mind shut against its emanations.”
“I see.” Gwenneth sighed. “Why do I think we’ve been playing sorceresses’ apprentice with the human psyche over the last few years?”
“Because we have, and we must stop. Otherwise, we might unleash a force capable of wreaking havoc on the Order and on Lyonesse.”
“Did you see something?”
Marta bit her lower lip as she nodded.
“In the hours after my session with Seled, I saw a potential future where we face our own Ragnarok — the end of everything you and Jonas Morane created. I didn’t see what could trigger it, but I don’t doubt it somehow involves our mind-meddling. We are messing with things beyond our understanding. I see that now. Our arrogance has been blinding us.” A grim look hardened Marta’s face. “On second thought, perhaps we should not continue the experimental treatment program, period, and use conventional methods before we inadvertently create an uncontrollable monster. So far, no one beyond a few of us knows about its existence. If word gets out because of an incident, we will face a crisis beyond imagining.”
Gwenneth’s ascetic features took on an air of indecision.
“The program is successful beyond our hopes, and I know we can release more of those with behavior disorders from their torment.”
“On the surface, yes. But as Seled proved, we cannot heal a twisted soul. Only death will offer release from torment. If that.” Marta sighed. “But perhaps I’m reading too much into my visions. Still, give my suggestion some thought. It may be prudent if we suspend the experimental program for a few years and watch those who’ve undergone the cure.”
“I’ll discuss the matter with Mirjam.”
Marta inclined her head, accepting Gwenneth’s answer — for now. “Is anything waiting for me upon my return?”
“I’d like you to resume working with Stearn.”
A frown. “Didn’t Katarin declare him for all intents and purposes done?”
“In terms of training, yes, seeing as how he’s shown no interest in becoming a healer or counselor, and he has neither the faith nor the temperament to become a chaplain. But he’s been spending entirely too much time with Loxias, out in the community, monitoring the senate elections and interacting with the leading business tycoons. Please resume your daily meditation sessions with him and check his behavior. I fear Loxias is using Stearn’s abilities for his own purposes.”
“Really?” Marta gave her superior a skeptical glance. “If you think Loxias is going against the Rule, call him on it.”
“I can’t because I saw no evidence, although I’ve heard whispers that Stearn’s been experiencing frequent nightmares in recent weeks. He was seen showering in the middle of the night on several occasions. The only reason I can think of why he’d do so is because he’s waking up in a cold sweat. Bad dreams. A guilty conscience. Perhaps he’s been pushing against his conditioning, and we know that can leave the mind prey to every manner of self-punishment.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“You and I have done so when required. Although we were taught how to bleed off the after-effects in a controlled manner. Stearn has both the smarts and the life experience to search for his limits and test them.” Gwenneth exhaled noisily, a sure sign of exasperation. Something in Marta’s expression gave her pause. “What is it?”
“The glimmer of an idea. What came through Seled’s third eye was the stuff of nightmares. It could be Stearn’s soul has its own problems, and they manifest as dreadful dreams leaking through an imperfectly closed third eye, one that wasted more energy during the day than it should.”
“Now you’re scaring me.”
“Good. Stearn could easily become stronger than either of us. And if he’s been breaking his oath while fighting the conditioning...” Marta let her words hang between them.
“I should never have indulged Mirjam and sent you to the Windies.”
“Wallowing in regrets is pointless. We learned something important, perhaps even vital, about the essence of being human. Besides, I’ll correct Stearn’s trajectory, don’t fear. There’s plenty of good in him.”
“And even more we don’t know. He never gave us a full accounting of his time in Antelope, and I’m still not convinced he told us the true story of the Void Beacon he supposedly found on a world far from the abbey that manufactured it.”
“By the time his mind cleared enough for a truth read, he’d developed shields I couldn’t push through without leaving obvious tracks, which just proves my point about the speed at which his mind has been developing.”
Gwenneth waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.
“As you said, regrets are pointless. Come home, reassert your role as Stearn’s teacher and guide him away from the secular ambitions peddled by the likes of Loxias and his followers.”
**
The electoral ads playing on every available display inside the Lannion Spaceport terminal’s central hall struck Marta as more strident and darker than ever before in the republic’s brief history. What little she glimpsed as she made her way through the cavernous, almost empty space advocated a wholesale replacement of the current senate and administration.
When Marta stepped out into the early morning sunshine, she suppressed a groan of dismay. She intellectually understood that what was early evening in the Windy Isles when the Phoenix Clipper City of Carhaix lifted off became dawn upon landing in Lannion. But being confronted by the fact she faced at least twelve hours until bedtime and not three made her heart sink. That brief, suborbital flight gave back the hours stolen from her weeks earlier, but the notion didn’t make an interminable day any more appealing. Not when she still suffered the after-effects of Seled’s collapse.
She found the abbey’s ground car waiting by the curb, along with other vehicles destined for her fellow passengers. One of its doors opened, and Landry’s smiling, bearded face appeared.
“Welcome home, Sister. How was your flight?”
Marta climbed in beside him and placed her bag at her feet. “The Clippers are amazing.”
“Perhaps one of these days, I should volunteer for an assignment in the Windies or aboard a starship and experience them for myself.” Under his deft control, the car pulled away smoothly and headed for the avenue leading into downtown Lannion at a comfortable speed, its anti-grav cushion absorbing imperfections in the roadway. Marta felt as if she sat in a comfortable reading chair.
“I didn’t follow the elections but caught the advertising in the terminal. Is it just me, or is this campaign rather less civil than previous ones?”
Landry chuckled.
“You don’t know the half of it. A lot of the races, especially in Lannion districts, are turning particularly nasty these days. I can’t figure what’s motivating it, but I’ll happily stay far away from politics, unlike many Brethren. Could be we need an amendment to the Rule forbidding political discussions, let alone attending rallies like Loxias and his cronies. But considering how many among us want the Order to wield more secular influence, I doubt the abbess would get a two-thirds majority to support such an amendment.”
This early in the day, traffic was light, and they quickly left Lannion behind, though not before Marta spied more political advertising on large animated displays. Some even referenced the administration’s handling of the Barbarian Plague risk, promising their candidate would do better t
han the incumbent. She felt a sense of relief after the events of the last two days when they left the main road and entered the abbey’s expansive land grant. Soon, she spied its buildings above green fields and trees in full flower. Home.
“Gwenneth asked that you come to her office upon arrival,” Landry said, breaking through her reverie. “I’ll take your valise to your room.”
“Of course. Thank you.”
Landry stopped the car in front of the administration building, and the passenger door opened soundlessly.
“Enjoy a blessed day, Sister.”
“You as well.”
Marta found Gwenneth staring out of a side window overlooking the fields. The abbess turned when she sensed her presence by the open door.
“Please come in and sit.” She settled in behind her desk with a tired sigh. “Seled came out of her coma minutes after your Clipper took off.”
“And?”
“It took four friars to restrain her. Mirjam says her mind resembled that of a wild animal driven by rage. It’s as if her personality disorder was back, but without the restraint she could exercise before undergoing treatment.”
Marta cocked a questioning eyebrow. “You just used the past tense. What else happened?”
“Seled died of cardiac arrest shortly afterward, thankfully before Mirjam called the warden and ask he take her back for everyone’s safety. They’ll carry out an autopsy when it’s morning in the Windies, but Mirjam figures the heart attack was stress-induced.”
Grief twisted Marta’s features.
“The Void giveth, the Void taketh away.”
“Blessed be the Void.”
“At least the Almighty’s mercy will now grant her the peace she never had.” After a moment of silence, Marta said, “This means that the treatment likely doesn’t address the true behavioral drivers. It merely removes the overt part. The sickness afflicting those unfortunates is much deeper and is probably impervious to any cure.”
Imperial Night (Ashes of Empire, #3) Page 28