Gwenneth nodded tiredly. “A sickness of the soul. Yes. I ordered the experimental treatment stopped indefinitely. The other five who underwent it will be closely monitored for any signs of their disorder returning.”
“I don’t think that’ll happen. If they cannot open the third eye, whatever lies behind it will stay walled off, and I checked — none of them has anything more than an above-average sixth sense.” Marta shook her head. “Sorceresses’ apprentices, indeed. I suppose it’s a good thing this happened behind the priory’s walls and not out in public where her condition would raise questions we cannot answer without imperiling the Order. What will Mirjam tell the warden about Seled’s death and the termination of the treatment program?”
“As little as possible. No doubt, there will be lingering suspicions.”
“Unavoidable, I suppose.” Marta suppressed a yawn. “My body thinks it’s bedtime.”
“Head for the refectory and eat breakfast as step one in resetting your inner clock, followed by meditation.”
“A wise suggestion.” She climbed to her feet. “I would take a few days of rest before shouldering fresh duties.”
“I only need you to deal with Stearn.”
“I will do so.” She bowed her head at Gwenneth and left the abbess to her thoughts.
When Marta entered the refectory, she noticed a cluster of Lindisfarne Brethren — friars and sisters — lingering after the morning meal, Stearn sat among them, looking as if he were holding court and not Loxias, the group’s putative leader. Stearn briefly looked up at her, and their eyes met. Marta’s heart sank when he gave her only a cold, dispassionate stare instead of the amused reverence he used to show for what he mischievously called his surrogate mother.
— 42 —
––––––––
The next morning, Stearn stopped on the threshold to Marta’s training room and bowed his head.
“I’m here as directed, Sister, though I can’t understand why. Katarin taught me what I needed after you left for the Windy Isles. Since I will not become a healer, counselor, or chaplain, I don’t need further instruction and should concentrate on my duties.”
Marta, already sitting on her mat in the lotus position, gave him a hard look. “Duties that include taking part in secular politics?”
“Loxias is training me to become chief administrator one day. That involves accompanying him wherever he goes outside the abbey’s walls.”
“Please come in.” She pointed at the mat in front of her. “We will meditate together every morning. That way, I can check your personal progress.”
Stearn didn’t budge. “Why?”
“Because the student I was teaching in the Windies died yesterday, shortly after my departure. She was, like you, a wild talent who entered the Order later in life than usual, and I want to watch you for signs of the same condition that struck her down.”
His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “May I ask the student’s name?”
“Seled.”
The suspicion turned to incredulity. “That crazy old woman with delusions of attractiveness? They took her on as a sister?”
“She underwent treatment that erased her antisocial personality disorder, and once it was gone, we discovered she had the talent. Unfortunately, when she finally opened her third eye, things went terribly wrong.”
“And you’re afraid you’ll lose another student. Sister, I’ve been opening and closing my third eye at will since you left, and as you can see, I’m alive and well. Please don’t confuse me with a sociopath.”
“It is how you open and close it that interests me.” She pointed at the mat again. “Please, Stearn. Indulge me in this. The bond between teacher and student is one of the few things that can only be severed by death. And since we don’t know what happens after we die, perhaps it continues across the Void for eternity.”
“You know I’m not into religious mumbo jumbo.” Stearn exhaled with just a tinge of exasperation. “Very well. For you, anything.”
As he adopted the lotus position facing her, Marta said, “I’ve recently experienced something that makes me think at least part of what you call mumbo jumbo is real.”
“Oh?” A skeptical eyebrow crept up Stearn’s forehead. “I’m listening.”
“Do you believe we have a soul, immortal or not?”
“I’ve never given it much consideration.” He cocked his head to one side. “To be honest, I’ve never given it any consideration.”
“Please don’t speak of this with anyone else, but when Seled opened her third eye, I think I caught a brief glimpse of what I think was her soul.”
“And then she died. Maybe we’re not meant to see certain things.”
“Funny you should say that. However, the real question is, what precisely are we not meant to see or do?” Marta closed her eyes. “Please enter a meditative trance.”
Stearn followed suit and loosened the tight bonds that kept his thoughts in check. As expected, he soon felt the tendrils of her mind brush against his.
“Let me in.” Her voice seemed to come from afar.
“With all due respect, I will keep my privacy intact.” He hardened his mental shielding.
“You no longer trust your teacher?”
“Tell me why you want in.”
“You’ve been experiencing horrible nightmares in recent times.”
A moment of hesitation. “Yes.”
“They always happened after you opened your third eye and pushed against the conditioning.”
More hesitation. “Yes. How do you know?”
“Do you believe you’re the only one who’s ever tested his boundaries?”
“No.”
“We all do because that’s human nature. One of the most common reactions is disturbing nightmares, as if the soul was revolting while we’re at our most vulnerable.” When Stearn didn’t reply, Marta said, “You won’t let me in, will you?”
“No. I neither want nor need supervision by you or anyone else at this point. I simply wish to make my way in life by becoming one of the Order’s administrators and follow in Loxias’ footsteps. We can meditate together, but that is the only thing you or Gwenneth can ask of me. The Rule does not mandate I allow anyone into my mind. And should you insist, I will invoke the oath.”
“None of my other students have ever used such harsh words.”
“I am my own man, Sister. My mind does not need supervision by you or anyone else.” Stearn opened his eyes. “And I am no longer in a meditative state of mind, so if you’ll excuse me, we can take this up again tomorrow morning. My duties await.”
He uncoiled his legs and stood, bowed at the waist, then left her staring at his back as he walked away.
Loxias caught up with him on the way to the power generation plant. “How was your first session with Marta since her return?”
“Marta, like the rest of the older sisters, figures she understands the human psyche. She doesn’t. None of them do. They play with it instead of facing the truth.”
“I’m pleased you finally recognize that fact, my friend. Fortunately, the future is ours, not theirs.”
**
“Brigid! Thanks for showing up a little early.” Morane waved her into his office, pointing at one of the chairs in front of his desk, then gave his executive assistant a nod. He stepped back into the corridor and closed the door behind him.
“Always a pleasure, Mister President. I gather you read last night’s intelligence report.”
Morane nodded at his reader, lying on the desk. “Indeed. Did you check the latest opinion polls this morning?”
“Yes, and they dovetail nicely with the trends noted in the report. Something is happening out there that’ll upend the political landscape come election day. A lot of first-term senators won’t be getting a second one.”
“And your operatives saw Order of the Void Brethren at
most political events to support the challengers.” Morane’s tone made his words a statement.
DeCarde nodded.
“Loxias and Stearn are the most prominent, but they’re far from the only ones. I know you don’t share my views, but I smell mind-meddling of some sort. More first time candidates are ahead of incumbents than normal, and where the incumbent faces term limits, the leading replacements are cut from the same cloth as the challengers.”
“This is only the fourth senate election in the republic’s history. We can’t really look back and decide what’s normal and what isn’t.”
“My analysts checked the Colonial Council election history. Lyonesse generally gives its politicians a second term if they don’t trip over themselves during the first, but this time around, plenty of solid senators seem headed for defeat. Charis Sandino’s chances of succeeding you are getting slimmer. The newcomers will nominate their own candidates for the presidency and vice presidency.”
“Any idea who they might put forward?”
She shook her head.
“Not yet, but as the preference cascade speeds up, we should find out, although my best analysts are betting on Viktor Arko. He’s been a close friend of the Hechts since before we arrived and is well regarded by most people. I’m sure he’d accept the nomination.”
Morane grimaced at hearing the name of the man who was Health Secretary in Elenia Yakin’s cabinet, and before independence, ran the colony’s medical system. Arko made no bones about his dislike of Morane and fought him on many issues related to health services for the Defense Force. When Morane offered to keep him on as a cabinet member after succeeding Yakin, at least on an interim basis, Arko refused point-blank, returning to private life, and busying himself with philanthropic pursuits.
“Viktor certainly likes the Order. The sisters and friars made his life as Health Secretary a walk in the park — inexpensive, devoted, and supremely capable doctors, nurses, psychologists, and orderlies. What’s not to like? I wouldn’t be surprised if your people were onto something.”
“Could be. Arko doesn’t worry me much. He’s competent and smart, even if he’s not one of your fans or a fan of senior military people in general. He spent enough time traveling around the empire as a young naval surgeon to have seen the worst of the old Imperial Armed Services. I’m mostly concerned about the undisputed fact someone is backing newcomers — other than the Chamber of Commerce grandees, I mean — but they’re careful, and they’re using Loxias’ Lindisfarne Brethren. Whether it’s via mind-meddling,” DeCarde held up a restraining hand, “I know, you don’t believe they do that, or simply by hinting that the organization basically running the republic’s health care system is tacitly endorsing certain candidates.”
“The Void Brethren are full citizens of the republic. They can take part in any lawful activity, including politics.”
DeCarde made a face at him. “Easy for you to say, once the next session of the Lyonesse Senate votes in a new president, you no longer need to worry about mind-meddlers working their way into government corridors. Unless the Loxias faction decides it’s interested in running the future Defense Force Command and Staff College.”
A thin smile appeared on Morane’s lips. “I am contemplating an annual security studies course that brings together senior folks from various parts of the republic, including the Order of the Void.”
“Fortunately, I’m beyond attending that sort of training.”
“But not beyond teaching.”
“Recruiting faculty already?”
“It’s never too early. Reginus Bryner signed up, sight unseen, as did Matti Kayne and Elenia Yakin. Since I figure you won’t stick around as Defense Secretary under whoever succeeds me, and you’ve not yet cleared land for a garden on your property...”
“Perish the thought. We Marines have a red thumb, not a green one. Fine. I volunteer. Is there anything you’d like intelligence to focus on concerning the election?”
“Keep an ear to the ground and an eye on the perimeter. The electoral commission will make sure everything is honest.”
“Could you speak with Gwenneth and see if she might rein in the budding political backroom operators in her flock?”
“I already did, and she told me the same thing I told you. The Void Brethren are full citizens of the republic with all the rights and responsibilities that entails, including the right to vote, and they don’t meddle in the minds of others. The sisters are empaths, yes, but that means they’re on receive only, and only for medical purposes.”
“It’s not the sisters I worry about, but Friar Stearn. I swear he peeked into my mind during the Chamber of Commerce meeting a few weeks ago.”
“He’s no different from the sisters and can’t actually read your thoughts, though he will pick up on your distrust of his sort. The Brethren are the keenest students of human behavior you’ll ever meet.”
“And that’s not creepy in itself?”
“You play poker. The best players are just as keen to refine their understanding of human behavior.”
She gave him an exasperated grimace. “You always find a plausible answer for everything. I guess that’s why you’re the president.”
“It certainly isn’t because of my good looks.”
“I’m sure Emma would disagree.”
“Let’s not go there.” Morane glanced at the ancient clock on his office sideboard and stood. “Besides, it’s time we head for the cabinet room.”
“Saved by the bell,” a clearly unrepentant DeCarde replied with a mischievous grin as she imitated him.
— 43 —
––––––––
“Loxias, Stearn, thank you for coming. I wanted you to meet an old family friend who might come out of retirement after the senate elections.”
Gerson Hecht invited the friars into his mansion with a sweeping arm gesture. The sun was setting over Lannion after another warm, muggy day. Still, here on the heights above the capital where many of the republic’s wealthiest citizens owned sprawling estates, the air seemed lighter and less redolent of the Middle Sea. If Hecht noticed that Stearn preceded Loxias into the marble-floored foyer rather than the other way around, he gave no sign.
Stearn smiled at Hecht.
“Thank you for inviting us, Gerson. We’re honored.”
“I felt it was time. Our guest of honor had been the Order’s friend ever since his days as Health Secretary and doesn’t much like our current president or his policies, which makes his return to public life an opportunity none of us can afford to waste.” Hecht glanced at Loxias, who so far hadn’t said a word. “You might remember him from Elenia Yakin’s time as president — Viktor Arko.”
A smile split Loxias’ beard.
“A friend of the Order indeed. I never met him but know his reputation as Lyonesse’s foremost and longest-serving health administrator. Gwenneth holds him in high esteem.”
“No doubt.” Hecht led them through a broad, carpeted corridor whose walls were covered with art — paintings, prints, and other reproductions of ancient pieces that probably didn’t survive the empire’s demise. “I know he respects the abbess for her dedication to serving the community.”
They entered an expansive salon where two dozen men and women stood in clusters, conversing, drinks in hand, shunning the sofa and easy chair groupings. Panoramic windows overlooked a star system capital lighting up for the rapidly oncoming subtropical night. Stearn could even spy the far end of the Lannion Base tarmac out of a corner. But where grounded Void Ships sat the day he arrived almost two years earlier, he saw nothing more than an expanse of gray concrete, underscoring the Navy’s assertion all available ships were in space, on the lookout for intruders.
Most of the conversations trailed off as eyes turned on the bearded, black-robed friars who stopped and politely bowed at the other guests. Stearn recognized all of them save for one man in his late sixties
. Tall, lean, with close-cropped gray hair and intense dark eyes, he dominated the room with his mere presence.
“Viktor, these are Friars Loxias and Stearn, two of our best friends inside the Order. Loxias is the chief administrator and, therefore, the abbess’ de facto second in command. Stearn is Loxias’ understudy, destined for the chief administrator’s mantle in due course.”
Arko didn’t offer his hand, although he nodded.
“A pleasure. Gerson told me of your commitment to help elect senators who believe the republic’s administration needs urgent changes in the face of an increasingly perilous galaxy.”
“We of the Order must play our part in ensuring Lyonesse will one day venture forth and reunite humanity’s other survivors,” Stearn replied. “Between them, our abbess and President Morane keep us on the sidelines, but that must end.”
“A good thing Morane’s time is almost over, and to think he knee-capped himself by insisting on term limits for elected officials when we drew up our constitution.” Arko’s tone was even and unemotional, but Stearn’s finely-tuned ears picked up more than a hint of sarcasm.
“Gwenneth’s time will end soon enough as well. She is a prisoner of the past, and an increasing number of Brethren are looking to the future.”
“Gerson told me you might become the Order’s first abbot. Will you be taking Gwenneth’s place?”
Stearn shook his head. “I’m still too young and too new, but our next abbess will be a sister who shares our views. May I assume you will vie for the presidency?”
“That’s what my friend Gerson wants.” Arko nodded at Hecht.
“Viktor would make a fine president, and if it weren’t for Jonas Morane taking such an outsized role in Lyonesse affairs before his nomination, I daresay we’d both be speaking with President Arko right now.”
“I suppose it was rather inevitable that the savior of Lyonesse would take over from our beloved Elenia, who I’m sure, had no involvement with Morane’s political elevation.” This time, the sarcasm in Arko’s voice was noticeable.
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