by Mark Henwick
Hwa takes my hand, and in that moment, our minds lock back together in the way they did when I hosted her in her ghostly quantum state.
We are, literally, of one mind.
“That was a true vision of what happened on that hillside,” Keren says with a wave at the dusty fountain basin. “Communicated in your way from spy drone to the Xian delegation, to courier ship and so to Hwa. But that is not what we are valued for, that is not why we called you here.”
The dust in the fountain basin begins to spin again as if stirred by a whirlwind.
“The two of you are meshed like we are meshed and yet you’re also individual. That fascinates us so much. So much that the shoal who saved you from drowning immersed itself in you, unable to stop until it had read the richness of both your lives.”
I shudder at the image she describes.
“Once full with that, the shoal offered itself to the elder shoals, that they all might share this wide richness. And they in turn, offered themselves to the eldest ones.”
I sense, behind her words, a merging, like the stately collisions of galaxies. But a loss of identity, as well? Do the sea folk feel identity as we do?
“The eldest ones, what Morgen called the Great Old Ones,” Hwa says.
Keren bows her head.
“We are no longer the Great Old Ones,” she says, as the dust storm envelops us all. I can’t see her any more, and her voice is now the voice of the wind, ever rising. “You are the agents of change, Zara and Hwa. The stories you held have brought an end to the great Dream that has lasted us for thousands of your years. You have brought us strange tales too deep and wide even for the Old Ones. We wake. The Dreamers wake and there is now but one of us. We are now the Dowr, the one voice in the deep that speaks of what may be. We have looked on your tales and dreamed, and this is what we have dreamed.”
Kernow: I’m on foot, masked and walking silently through the outskirts of Marazion with others behind me. Tense, alert. The city looks empty, but we know that can be deceiving. There are basements where the berserkers lurk, and they can boil out at any time. We wouldn’t be here, but the crops are failing again. Somewhere in the city there will be supplies. Hidden away in the back of some shop: fresh seed, uncontaminated with the viruses; tinned food; medicines.
It’s filthy. I can still smell it through the breathing filters. The worst of the stench, from when so many died, has gone, but berserkers foul the streets and there are still a lot of them around. The viruses rob them of all reasoning. Berserkers exist only to kill and eat anything living that’s not in their small, shrinking tribes. In another few years they’ll be gone, but we need the supplies now.
Something stirs way down the street and we freeze. Safeties click off. We really don’t want to kill any, not because they have any resemblance to humans—we’re long past that—but the noise of killing them will bring more. We don’t have an infinite supply of ammunition.
Newyan: Wrapped in triple layers against the cold, I walk around to check the fortifications again, worrying that it’s been so long since the last attack. We’re secure where we are: heavy neo-c walls, a deep well, a warehouse stocked with fuel, food, and clothing. Weapons and ammunition. A cleared area two hundred paces wide all around the fort.
Our supplies make us a target. Nothing grows out there after the kinetic bombardment—it’s a grey, freezing desert. Even the snow is still the color of ash. Of course, I’d like to take in some of the starving people from outside, but we’ve got just enough fuel for the hydroponics, and just enough food until the hydroponics start to produce an amount needed to feed us regularly. If we take any more people in, we’ll all die.
No one is coming to save us. There hasn’t been a whisper above the static on the radios. No spaceships above with supplies. Nothing. We have to save ourselves. In the end, we might be the only humans left for all we know.
I open one of the firing holes and take a rapid look outside.
Movement.
I sound the alarm.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
I don’t wake up at any specific point. Hwa and I are both locked together in the horror of the possible future that the sea folk, the Dowr, have shown us.
Morgen understands. She and Talan have got everyone back on board the Low Lady and we’re heading for home with a following wind. No one else seems affected quite the way we are. Rhos and Alexis are quiet, but whisper excitedly up on the prow. Talan looks sad and thoughtful. Morgen is silent.
I don’t know what they saw.
Half of me wants to go back and ask more questions of the Dowr.
This can’t depend on Hwa and me alone.
I can’t shed tears. I can’t. But Hwa and I know what we must do.
And there is no going back. Only forward, whatever the price.
Whatever the price.
It’s a fine morning, sunny, with clear skies and a cool wind. We sail into Stormhaven harbor. Moyle’s there to greet us. He gives the girls a piece of his mind for their escapade, before loading us all into his truck.
There’s a small crowd gathering in the town square and we have to stop and wait.
Hwa and I are blinking. We know exactly what’s going through each other’s minds. There are people out enjoying the sunshine. The town smells of the sea and fresh fish and boat varnish. Everything is clean and neat. Everyone is well fed. No berserkers hide in the houses. No foraging parties, masked against viruses and grimly marching into the town looking for supplies.
To make it all more bizarre, the reason for the crowd is there’s a mummers’ play in the square. The actors all wear tall, conical masks, woven from twigs, that balance on coils of rope around their necks. Sea shells are used to make huge eyes on the masks, and their costumes are covered with thousands more sea shells.
Everything feels as if it has another meaning beneath it. The last few hours all blend strangely together in my head; the Dowr’s bleak, appalling visions of a possible future for Newyan and Kernow, the outlandishly masked dancers glowing in the bright sun, the happy audience clapping in time.
What was. What is. What might be.
“I feel as if it’s all a strange dream,” I say, and Hwa nods in understanding.
Chapter 12
Kernow
“The Duchess Aguirre-Tremayne, Colonel Zarate Mirari Aguirre.”
The announcement sounds grand—much grander than I feel. I once thought that Hanna, Alexis’ mother, would be the new Duchess—and that she would do it much better than I. Hanna would have glided into the ballroom, elegant and glittering. She would have looked the part and won people over with her charm and presence.
I laid a flower on her grave this afternoon, and wept.
My way to win people over will be different.
I enter wearing my uniform, now officially the uniform of the Kernow Air Force. I have a rank and gold braid and medals. I have had my hair cut short again this afternoon.
Gaude could barely speak when I explained my requirements for the ball. The braid and medals represent my compromise with him. Without his frantic argument, I might well have walked in here with a sidearm.
A ripple of silence flows outward across the ball. I am a raven come among peacocks; I am a shadow fallen on the rainbow.
Behind me the Master of Ceremonies calls out again: “Lady Rhoswyn Aguirre-Tremayne and Lady Alexis Esterhauze Aguirre-Tremayne, and companions.”
The girls are dressed for a ball, and still surprised I’ve brought them. Talan and Moyle are with them, in uniform and under strict instructions what to do. Hwa follows unnoticed behind, dressed in traditional Xian silks.
My hostess, Lady Howriel, hurries forward to greet me. I guess as much to limit the damage as anything else. I feel a twinge of guilt, but it was her decision to invite the Terrans that has brought me here.
“Duchess,” she says, and we offer little bows and then shake hands, that being the custom among Names on Kernow.
“My Lady.”
“Such a smart uniform,” she says, clasping her hands together, and meaning something completely different. “I suppose simplicity of form might be the fashion this autumn.”
I smile briefly. “Perhaps. Uniforms can become fashionable when we are at war. And we are at war, despite the behavior of the Terran Council.”
I timed my entrance to arrive immediately after the Terrans, and I’ve spoken loudly enough that they, and others close by, can hear.
Lady Howriel retreats hurriedly to attend to other arriving guests.
Captain Taha and Yeva Ivakin take my bait and engage in a defense of their actions. It goes better than I could have hoped—an argument in the middle of the ball with almost all the Founding Families present. I am sorry for Lady Howriel, but the message gets out. The Duke and I believe the Terrans have failed in their responsibilities as defined by the Accords. I can see Commander Ndungane repeatedly trying to signal the others to leave the party. They’re too stubborn to listen to him.
Good.
“It’s a pity the Duke has left you to attend events on your own,” Taha says. “I’m sure we would get a more reasoned and reasonable approach from him.”
“And I assure you,” I reply, “both that I am perfectly capable of presenting our shared opinions, and also that he would put his opinions no less vociferously than I.”
“Really? Is he not embarrassed by the court cases against you on Newyan? I understand he was able to quash them here.”
Taha’s anger has made him careless. He’s just insulted Kernow. I can see the reactions of those who are close enough to hear. They turn and walk away. They’ve heard enough. It will ripple through the ball tonight, and the news will travel across the world tomorrow.
No one will remember that he started by talking about legal cases against me in Newyan.
Ivakin and Ndungane realize his mistake, but Taha is their leader and he’s desperate to get the last word in.
Whatever they think of me, this kind of confrontation is making me shake with adrenaline, but I’ve made my decisions.
I’ve done what I can for Kernow. Now it’s time for Newyan.
“I will enjoy proving those cases against me were brought fraudulently, entirely for the murderous political agenda of the Hajnal.”
Taha raises his eyes to the sky, presumably that I persist in my conspiracy theory about the Hajnal. I don’t care. I need him and his Commission of Enquiry on Newyan. I don’t need him to believe anything at this point. I just need him to be there, bound by the laws governing Commissions, at exactly the right time for me to trap him.
“You won’t be able to dismiss those cases from here,” Ivakin points out.
“I’ve no intention of attempting it from here,” I reply. “I intend to return to Newyan to ensure the Hajnal are stopped. Clearing my name is secondary to that.”
That silences them for a second. I can see they’re shocked. And Ivakin’s expression turns calculating.
“It’s possible the Commission of Enquiry may close the system to non-essential traffic,” she says, with an icy smile. “You would probably be best advised to come with us on the Annan, though you may need to apologize to the captain first.”
I know what’s going on in her head. There’s no likelihood that the Commission will close the system at all. She’s thinking of some deal with the Newyan government. If the Terrans take me there in the Annan, she believes that will give them some advantage with the authorities—see, we’re bringing back a criminal to face justice.
She might even believe that’s the right thing to do. I haven’t decided yet whether she’s genuinely mistaken or she knows the Hajnal is real and she’s just assuming she can use them for her own personal gain somehow.
“The Duchess will not require transport in the Annan.” Hwa steps up beside me.
“And who the nova are you?” Taha scowls at her.
“I am Hwa, representative of the Fortunate Stars Hong of Xian, and I will be prosecuting the administration of Newyan, on behalf of my company, for the deliberate attack on our freighter Shohwa by the Newyan customs cutter Duhalde.”
Taha and Ivakin bluster that Xian has no authority in Newyan.
Hwa waits patiently. While they’re still blustering, Ngungane’s eyes have narrowed, flicking to and fro between Hwa and me. He can see the resemblance and it’s probably put his brain into overdrive. He bears watching closely, this man. He’s certainly far sharper than Taha and Ivakin.
His colleagues come to the end of their little speeches about over-reaching jurisdiction, looking satisfied that they’ve put Hwa in her place.
“There is, of course, no way I can compel the Newyan authorities to grant my court case,” Hwa says calmly. “Nevertheless, in their courtroom or outside, my resolution will bind all Fortunate Stars traders, as well as anyone who wishes to do business with us in future.”
Taha still doesn’t understand, although Ivakin and Ndungane certainly do from their expressions: Fortunate Stars Hong is the second largest Xian trading company, and Xian companies dominate pan-system trade. One major Xian company doesn’t make it a complete embargo, but it doesn’t have to be. The effect will ripple through the markets. Newyan businesses will face collapse.
Captain Taha sniffs dismissively. “Ridiculous,” he says. “Anyway, all such complaints and procedures would come under the aegis of the Commission. It’s all laid out in the Accords. Not even Xian can bluster its way past them.”
“That only applies for matters arising after the Commission has been established, which it cannot be until you’re actually present,” Hwa replies. “My court case will be registered before your arrival.”
Ndungane stares at her as if she’s grown a second head.
“The Annan is the latest design of Terran light cruiser, and we are departing tomorrow,” he says. “You can’t credibly claim that some damn freighter is going to overtake us?”
Hwa smiles. “Oh, I don’t doubt your ship is very, very fast, Commander, and you’re proud of her. Don’t worry, we’ll try not to make you look too bad.”
Chapter 13
Kernow
An hour later, I’m changing into plain work clothes.
The Terrans left the ball soon after Hwa and I finished with them, Taha and Ivakin finally realizing that they would find no friends on Kernow after our loud discussion.
I gave my heart-felt apologies to Lady Howriel. She not only graciously accepted them, but embraced me in sight of others. The Terrans have made an error here that will not easily be erased. A minor victory for Hwa and me.
It all went far better than I deserved, far more easily. Now I am alone and the tears are streaming down my face.
Rhos and Alexis are still at the ball with Talan and Moyle. They are excited to have my permission to be out until 11pm. They won’t notice until it’s too late.
The letter is in the envelope on the table, waiting for me to seal it. Waiting for me to end this little spell of incredible happiness that I stole from fate.
There’s only one thing left to do. The hardest thing of all.
My heart is coming apart in my chest.
I can’t do this.
The knocking on my door is the sound of nails being driven into my heart.
I have to go. I have to. Now.
Duty and honor.
It says that in the letter.
Quickly, so as not to give myself time to weaken, I pull the rings off my finger and put them in the envelope. Seal it with trembling hands. Rest it against the vanity mirror where whoever comes in will see the name it’s addressed to on the front.
Duke Bleyd Tremayne.
Writing it that way, his Name stands alone. It looks wrong.
I have to go.
I rush from the room carrying nothing but my old duffel bag, leaving as I arrived.
Hwa and I run down the back stairs.
Outside, a car driven by a member of the Xian delegation takes us to the airport, where a special dispensation has been ma
de for a shuttle to land.
It’s an unusual shuttle, tiny and fully capable of atmospheric flight. It has no need for the Skyhook, and has none of the facilities of that kind of shuttle. Hwa and I are bundled into a closed compartment barely bigger than ourselves, and strapped in.
The crew is scrabbling to meet their lift-off window. Five minutes later we hear the outer doors close and seal. The last sounds of people rushing through the narrow corridor cease and the warning lights come on.
The acceleration is brutal; there’s no room for compensators on this small a craft.
I welcome it.
I want the pain. I want the weight on my chest squeezing the life out of me. It’s what I deserve. And still, my heart is torn with such a longing I can barely breathe.
Duty and honor.
Two hours later the shuttle docks precisely into the sleek shape of the Xing Gerchu, the Xian Hegemony courier ship waiting for us.
As soon as the clamps lock onto the shuttle, I feel the Xing Gerchu move and its acceleration compensators start to operate.
Space is at a premium in the courier. The ship is all engines and compensators, with passengers a distinct afterthought. There aren’t even private cabins, just bunks we may take turns in. Hwa guides me to a reclining seat and presses a drink into my hand.
I haven’t stopped crying since I left the hotel. I’m still crying when exhaustion finally takes effect and I fall into a deep and troubled sleep, where every time I reach the end of the letter, the words at the beginning have started to fade and must be written again.
My Dearest Bleyd
I love you. I am more sorry than I can possibly express in words.
We met in the most improbable of circumstances and you risked everything to accept into your life a woman with nothing to her name. And I truly believed I had nothing, except my Name.
But as my grandfather took pains to remind me, there is more to a Name than the sound; that bearing a Name may sometimes be an honor and a privilege, but it always carries a duty and a responsibility.