Spinspace: The Space of Spins (The Metaspace Chronicles Book 2)

by Matthew Kennedy

  “I haven't told you the worst of it,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I can only take one family member with me...and it cannot be you, because one of us should be with the children.”

  While she digested that, he continued his confession. “They recommended that I take Nathan, since he's the oldest.”

  She considered this. “It will interrupt his schooling. He's so close to graduating and picking a guild.”

  He sighed. “That's true. But I'm sure I can find tutors for him in Denver...and of course it will be good for him to know more about other countries than he would learn here.”

  Rebekah knew when to accept a decision. “When do you have to leave?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “And when will you come back?”

  He grimaced. “That depends on so many things that it's impossible to say yet. With God's help, we will get through this.”

  “Forgive me for being a silly wife,” she said, “but you won't forget me and fall in with a Rado woman, will you?”

  Isaac smiled at her. “You know I love you, but allow me to elaborate,” he said, and carried her to the bedroom.

  Chapter 20

  Esteban: deportantem molientemque

  “All the rivers run into the sea, Yet the sea is not full; to the place from which the rivers come, there they return again.”

  – Ecclesiastes 1:7

  It was hardly a surprise that they already knew. When Brother Esteban returned to the Reconditorium Prohibitum, he found a group of his superiors in the Order waiting to brief him on the particulars of his mission.

  The Reconditorium Prohibitum wasn't a big building with a sign warning people away. It was, in actual fact, the cellarium of the Monastery of St. Bruno, the Dallas Chapterhouse of the Carthusian order. In ancient times the cellarium (whose resemblance to the English word cellar is not accidental) was simply a lower level where wine and food of the monastery was stored. In a secular building it probably would be called the wine cellar.

  Since he rarely left St. Ignatius for the outside world, returning to the place was an opportunity for Esteban to see it with fresh eyes. Now that he had received the shocking disclosure from His Holiness that what it contained were not demonic snares but merely a collection of alien technology, it seemed (for the first time) to be a bizarre place.

  Bizarre and yet totally understandable. If you wanted to hide alien technology, where would you put it? You'd need somewhere close by, for convenience, but somewhere nobody visits. How about an old building with a lot of monks in it?

  He was so buried in his own thoughts that he nearly walked right into them in the Refectory.

  “Brother Esteban, we thought you might need to talk after your audience with His Holiness.”

  He sat himself down at one of the tables. “It was certainly...unexpected,” he said. “Tell me, if official Church policy regarding the Gifts is really going to change, will that...will that affect the Order?

  Brother Marcus lifted an eyebrow. “Affect us? How?”

  Isn't it obvious? “Well...if the Gifts are not demonic, the Church won't need us to store and guard them, will they? If that is the essential purpose of our Order, won't we have lost our purpose?”

  Marcus shook his head. “You know better than that, brother Esteban. Our Order was formed over a thousand years ago in France, long before the coming of the Tourists. Seeking a better relationship with God through solitude and contemplation is not something that will become meaningless, even if our special duties become unnecessary someday.”

  Esteban considered that. “That may be. Nevertheless, I have to confess, I am feeling a little conflicted, brother.”

  “How so?”

  “I guess you know His Holiness wants me to go to Denver.”

  “Of course. It was our recommendation.”

  “To study at a school for wizards. I mean, I know that the Gifts are not demonic. But to study sorcery...”

  “Not really sorcery, brother Esteban. We all know His Holiness would not ask you to commit a sin. We just want you to observe and report what they are doing there.”

  “Yes, I know. I mean, I understand it's not really magic that makes the Gifts work, and I know I've been around them for years without feeling any temptation toward evil. It's just....I don't know, it's one thing to get used to being around them and quite another to be trying to learn how to make them.”

  “You don't have to do that, to succeed in making a single swizzle, in order to fulfill your mission, brother. But to be there and seem to not be trying would raise eyebrows.”

  “Very well. But how am I to report my observations? It's not like I can come back every week or month to check in.”

  “Don't worry about that, brother. We will find a way to set up a secure channel for you to communicate back to us. You will be allowed, I'm sure, to write home to your relatives, for example.”

  “But they might read my letters.”

  Marcus smiled. “We have codes you can use to ensure your privacy.”

  He swallowed. “Wouldn't using a code be suspicious in itself?”

  Marcus shook his head. “Not if you tell them you're writing to your fiancé and want privacy.”

  “What? But I'm a monk! They'll know – ”

  “They'll know only what you tell them, Esteban. They will know you are probably Catholic, but you can tell them truthfully that you are not a priest if they ever ask, which they won't since you're so young. And I seriously doubt that they will think you are a monk, since we are not known for traveling much.”

  “But what will I tell them?”

  “That you want to learn what they are teaching.”

  He frowned. “That's not really true, though, is it? I don't think I can lie. I didn't ask for this.”

  Marcus smiled again. “Do you want to serve His Holiness and the Church, brother?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well then, His Holiness wants you to do this, for the good of the Church. So if you want to obey Him, then you want to go and learn, right?”

  As usual, he could not argue with their logic. “I suppose so. I just wish His Holiness had asked someone more qualified.”

  “Brother Esteban, you are uniquely qualified, believe me.”

  Chapter 21

  Kareef: “So travel through the earth”

  “...so travel throughout the earth and see how was the end of those who rejected the Truth!”

  – Quran 3:137

  Kareef didn't know what to make of Ambassador Qusay. He was genial enough, but you could never quite tell how much he knew about things. He supposed it made the man a good choice for an ambassador.

  “Do you know why this new School in Rado is of so much interest to the Emirates?”

  Qusay looked up from the document he had been reading. “There are so many ways to answer that question. Kareef. I could say that Rado itself is of interest to us, and thus anything they do, such as founding this School, would also be of interest, because it is they who do it.”

  Kareef tried not to frown. “Forgive me, sir, but that is not as informative an answer as I might have hoped for.”

  Qusay laughed. “You're right. Sorry, my training has conditioned me to be as vague as possible in my dealings with other diplomats and leaders, to avoid committing the Emirates to specific agreements and actions before the Emirs can be consulted.”

  “I understand. But can you be more specific with me, at least?”

  “As you know, Rado, which is more properly known by its Ancient name of Colorado, is remarkable insofar as it has been continuously ruled for many years now by a woman, the Governor Kristana.”

  Kareef nodded. “But so is Southern Californ,” he pointed out. “So Rado isn't unique.”

  “True...and yet not true. I'm sure you know that the Queen of Angeles is a sorceress, whereas Kristana is not.”

  “Are we certain of that?”

  “Oh yes,” said Qusay. “We receive detailed reports on the
heads of other countries. The two situations are quite different. The Queen runs a monarchy with no intent whatsoever to democratize it, whereas Kristana, who holds her office by virtue of her marriage to the former ruler of Rado, appears determined to shed her quasi-monarchy and revert the country to a democracy (someday), as part of following the late General D'Arcy's Dream of restoring the United States of America.”

  “That's what she says, but look at her actions,” said Kareef. “She's been absolute ruler for two decades and, from what I learned in my Geopolitics class, she is grooming her daughter to take over for her someday. It seems to be that this Dream of restoring democracy is just a pretext to put a nice face on her rule. Or maybe it is a sop to those who don't want to be ruled by a woman forever.”

  “She is a woman of contradictions,” Qusay agreed. “She is very firm in her control, which she would have to be, to survive as a female ruler. And yet according to our reports she is serious about following the General's Dream, and will commit her daughter to fulfilling it if she cannot achieve it in her lifetime.”

  “Words are louder than actions.”

  “Indeed. The fact that she is permitting the founding of this School, however, says a lot about her, and about her differences from the Queen. As you know, the Queen of Angeles did not acquire her throne by marriage, but by right of conquest. Since her rule of terror rests on her magical abilities, she has no interest in encouraging the development of other sorcerers who might someday replace her.”

  “Whereas Kristana has no fear of magic-users? Is that what you're saying?”

  “It is said that one of her closest advisors is Xander, the wizard who is founding the School. He is reputed to be a powerful magic-user, yet he makes no effort to replace her.”

  “The Emirs, blessings be upon them, are not magic-users, are they? Yet they are supported by the Order of Sihr. It seems to me,” Kareef commented, “that in some ways that makes our system of government similar in some ways to Rado's.”

  “It is true.”

  “Sir, can you tell me why the Order is content to merely support the rule of the Emirs...instead of seizing power, as the Queen did in Californ?”

  Qusay stroked his beard. “I cannot pretend to speak for the Order, since I serve the Emirs, may they be blessed,” he said. “However, if I were to speculate, I might suggest that those in the Order are as devout as any, and would feel it to be a sin to so betray the trust of their Emirs.”

  Kareef considered that. “Don't you think there could be another reason? Maybe the Order actually is the real government of the Emirates, but prefers not to have to deal with all the trivial details of government, and also the danger of assassination, and so they let the Emirs be seen as the rulers.”

  Qusay gave him a piercing look. “That,” he said, “is a very adult way of looking at it. I can see why you were given this Hajj, instead of another student.”

  “I wish they had chosen another.”

  Qusay smiled slightly. “Think of it as an opportunity. Evil seems to prosper sometimes, but in the end it is always destroyed. Kristana, though she is not Muslim, has continued to prosper, which implies to me that she cannot be considered among those who have denied the Truth. We can learn from her, and especially by watching for the success or failure of her School. It is written, 'Travel through the land and see how terrible was the end for those who rejected the Truth!'”

  Chapter 22

  Jeffrey: jibber jabber

  “But who will guard the guardians themselves?”

  – Juvenal

  He shifted slightly on the hard wooden chair in the waiting room. Jeffrey would have preferred for his first meeting as Honcho with the Pontiff to be in his own headquarters, but had realized, with some annoyance, that good leadership can require compromise. The spirit of cooperation between secular and religious authority in the Lone Star Empire which his father and grandfather had worked hard to craft was not something he would jeopardize without good reason.

  But is still rankled. In his opinion the Church consumed real resources and offered only intangible benefits. They didn't have to deal with crop forecasts, diplomatic intriguing, treaties, military advisors, and all the rest of the minutiae of running a government. Still, their influence among his people was undeniable. It would be better to have them on his side.

  Cardinal Dominguez emerged from the door into the papal audience chamber. “You may go in now, Excellency.”

  Finally. He unwound to his feet and followed the red-robed man into the chamber.

  Enrique had made some changes since Jeffrey's last visit to the place, when Pope Rodrigo had departed his mortal body, carried off by the lead ball of an unseen assassin's swizzle gun. The papal throne was surrounded on three sides by a tall barrier of wood covered with polished bronze, open only at the front. As Jeffrey approached the seated Pontifex, he was watched carefully by the eyes of two guards, one on each side of the Holy Cubicle.

  Enrique did not rise to greet him. In response to the extended hand, Jeffrey followed his late father's example, and in lieu of kneeling to kiss the ring he reached out to give Ricky a firm handshake instead, hoping it annoyed the guards.

  “Your Excellency, We are pleased that you have come again to visit Us.”

  Jeffrey seated himself on the middle chair facing the throne. “I'm happy you had time for me in your schedule, Holiness. I would be remiss if I did not thank you for the assistance of the Church in my father's last military venture, even if it did not succeed.”

  “We grieve with thee for thy father's passing. It would be easy to blame ourselves for our part in it. If we had not helped him develop the fuel for his mobile weapons, your father Peter might still be among the living.”

  Jeffrey shrugged. “He died the way he would have wanted to, in battle. No blame attaches to the Church from his actions. He aimed for conquest and failed. It happens in war.”

  “How gracious for you to say so, Excellency. Might We inquire as to the purpose of your visit, other than to inaugurate a relationship with Us as the new Honcho?”

  Enough chitchat. “You may have heard about this new school for wizards that Xander is finally starting in Denver. I've been wondering about the Church's position on it.”

  Enrique lifted an eyebrow. “Our position?”

  “Yes. I'm told they will accept anyone with the potential to work with magic, no matter where they come from. When my people hear of it, there'll be some Texans who want to attend. Will the Church be tolerant of this? Or will you try to discourage members of your flock from participating? We both know how much influence you have, so naturally I'm curious.”

  Enrique pursed his lips. “That is an excellent question, Excellency. We both know the Gifts are not really demonic, as my predecessors maintained, and yet there is always a great deal of, how shall I put it, ecclesiastical inertia when it comes to reversing prior stances of the Church on issues. We want to move with the times as far as possible, but to change Our opinions of things too quickly can seem capricious and even unstable.”

  “I understand that,” said Jeffrey. “But it does not answer my question, does it?”

  The Pope smiled. “A change in policy is forthcoming. I am just saying it cannot be as immediate or as explicit as We might prefer.“

  Jeffrey made a concerted effort not to heave a sigh at this evasion. “Yes, Holiness, I understand you cannot be seen to flip-flop on matters of Church policy. But if we could get back to the matter of the school. Xander is hoping that the presence of humans who can make and maintain tools such as swizzles and everflames (humans which we didn't have when the Fall occurred) will help our civilization progress and improve the quality of life without risking another Fall. Can the Church at least refrain from discouraging any of its members that want to try to become 'wizards' by attending the school? We both know that they will not be dabbling in actual sorcery or trafficking with demons.”

  His Holiness's expression altered, and he looked as if he were about to
say something but had managed to stop himself. “We are certain, Excellency, that there is no need to make any anti-school pronouncements. Don't worry. We shall never hinder the quest for knowledge.”

  I wonder what he was going to say, before he stopped himself? Jeffrey sighed mentally. Of course he hadn't expected Ricky to to endorse the school. Refraining from prohibiting it might be the best he could hope for from His Holiness at the moment.

  Chapter 23

  Rochelle: more briefing

  “Let my servants be few & secret: they shall rule the many & the known.”

  – The Book of the Law I:10

  She was so bored with these people. It was too easy to terrify them. Look, now, as another pair of advisors approached, in a sort of crawling grovel. Sometimes she wished they would rear up and attack. These days, she only felt alive when making someone else die.

  But no, she could not simply slay at whim. If she did that, they would all be too terrified to approach. Then she would have no one to bring food and other refreshments. And of course she would have to seek the others where they hid, to kill them for not coming.

  She gestured, and the carpet unrolled down the steps for them. “Approach me.”

  It was hardly worth the effort to dredge up their names from memory. Arturo, on the left, with his shaved head yet with drooping mustache, was her advisor on the Lone Star Empire. Dawnflower, on the right, nearly tripping over the hem of her leather robe, more of native American descent than otherwise, was her advisor on the Northern tribes.

  “You've heard of the former Honcho's failed invasion of Rado. What news or advice have you for me? Arturo?”

  The aging advisor stroked his mustache. “Majesty, your operatives in Texas report that the new Honcho has returned to Dallas with a treaty from Rado.”