“It sounds awful,” Ariel said.
Gabriel shrugged with a rustle of ancient, papery feathers. “Then I’m probably not explaining it well,” he admitted. “I’m talking about a process as old and as natural as just about any geological or astrological phenomenon you care to name. And it’s something the Pinians do instinctively. They did it when they were growing into the Gróbs, the Áea-folk, the Gyrlei. They forgot for a while, after the veil covered the world, but now…” he spread his hands, seeming to resign himself to the fact that he was speaking absolute gibberish. “Now, you’re coming back into focus, you’re activating. The same changes that have made you start being born together again, pulling you back into a Brotherhood – excuse me, a Sisterhood, sorry but the term is actually gender-neutral in Xidh – those same forces are bringing you back into tune with your natural talents, and they’ve helped to make you freaks.”
All three of the sisters were used to the idea of being freaks, and were perfectly aware that there was no realistic way they could take it in a negative sense. Aunt Agñasta, however, disapproved again – this time at Gabriel, albeit mildly.
“So that’s us, is it?” Ash asked. “Pinians?”
“That’s you,” Gabriel agreed.
“Pinians,” Ariel said dubiously. “Sounds like some piece of machinery Roon might put together and improve for fun.”
“Whereas in reality, it’s our own bodies we’ve put together and improved, since conception,” Ash said, “without knowing we were doing it.”
“It’s not really any more miraculous than an organism growing from a single cell into a functioning life-form practically identical to all the others of its kind and capable of reproducing with about half of them,” Gabriel said. “That all happens without the organism knowing it, too. It’s a natural process that unfolds according to basic least-resistance biological rules. You just happen to be able to put the occasional twig in the proverbial mudslide.”
“Okay,” Ariel said.
“Okay?” Gabriel echoed, squinting at her.
“For now,” Ash agreed with her sister, “let’s say you and your story sort of line up.”
“They’re both pretty crazy,” Ariel said, “but what’s the point of them being a lie?”
“We might as well hear the rest,” Ash concluded, “and find out what you’re selling.”
Gabriel grinned. “I’ve missed you,” he said. “God, you’re idiots … but damned if I haven’t missed you.”
MYTHOLOGY (AN ATTEMPTED EXPOSITION THAT RUNS INEVITABLY FAR AFIELD)
“There’s a number of things adding up to bring you back even as far as you have up to now,” Gabriel continued his bizarre, rambling explanation, “but this ability to mould the shell your consciousness inhabits, on every conceivable level … that’s an old one. It was there long before you were exiled. It was there before the Gróbs and the Elves. The talent to yes I said Elves.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Ash protested mildly, and glanced at Ariel. “Did you say anything?”
“Not me,” Ariel said. “Roon?”
“Elves?” Roon said, to Ash’s moderate surprise.
“Yes, Elves,” Gabriel repeated, “but don’t worry about them, they’re not…” he looked at Ash, and jerked his head towards Roon. Roon had calmly taken a bite of her meel patty and leaned back over Jarvis again. “That’s the second word she’s said,” the Archangel noted. “I feel like I’ve just witnessed history.”
“She’s got a point though,” Ariel said. “You’re going to bring Elves into this?”
“There’s no need to,” Gabriel replied with another hand-wave. “Elves aren’t a big deal.”
“Kind of feels like a big deal,” Ariel disagreed.
“The point is, you had the talent all along,” Gabriel said, “and it helped me find you. Sort of. The Firstmades have been adept at possession, reincarnation, soul-journeying, all the ancient and unseen arts. They invented them.”
“Firstmades,” Ash said. “Is that what Pinians are?”
“Yes. There are ten Firstmades, and each of the ten is divided up into different numbers of individual entities. That’s why they call them Firstmade Brotherhoods, although it’s really just an expression, a bad translation, whatever. And I should probably stress that while you are the Pinians, you’re not really the Pinians. Not properly. Not yet.”
“That was … a horribly counterproductive clarification,” Ariel remarked.
Gabriel leaned back on his own wings with an audible creak. “You’d think I would have planned how I was going to explain all this to you,” he said meditatively, “wouldn’t you?”
“You seem less than fully prepared,” Ash admitted.
“Still, I suppose I should be grateful that you’re taking it as well as you are,” the Archangel went on, nodding at Aunt Agñasta. “All of you.”
“Almost all of us,” Aunt Agñasta responded, with a glance at Jarvis. “How is he?” she asked Roon. Roon shrugged, then gave a thumbs-up.
“Alright,” Gabriel said, “it’s like this. Once, there were these Firstmades called Pinians. They got trapped on Earth under difficult circumstances, and disguised themselves as humans. The disguises were so good, and the circumstances so difficult, that they stayed as humans. They lived and aged and died, and took new human forms with no idea they were doing it. They were humans, down to the subatomic level. Functionally indistinguishable,” he pointed at them. “That’s you three. Pinian, but human. But Pinian,” he grinned and raised a huge, gnarled finger to forestall a reply. “But human,” he concluded.
“And you’re sure of this,” Ash said, “because … what? We’re healthy?”
“You’re a bit more than just healthy,” Gabriel said. “Look at you.”
“Oh come on,” Ariel scoffed.
“‘Oh come on’, says the world-famous fashion model and universally adored socialite,” Gabriel retorted. “But no, I don’t just mean your outward appearances and your medical histories. The former is a result of genetic optimisation and cultural values coinciding. The latter … well, let’s say that’s less to do with what people currently happen to think is good-to-have. It’s almost certainly a result of your own unconscious adjustments – at setup, so to speak.”
“A lot of our good fortune has been a result of inheriting a fortune,” Ash said. “Our wealth enabled us to live a certain way, receive the right medical care and nutrition, access the right resources … how much of that do you think we controlled unconsciously?”
Gabriel raised his hands defensively. “That I can’t tell you,” he said. “I have no idea how Pinians really go from incarnation to incarnation, especially here and now. I gather that before the exile, when they – you – would take new bodies, it was more of a conscious and actual movement from a disembodied state into a new body, but this human element is far more complicated. I know about your personal histories, by the way,” he said, looking unhappy. “Your childhood, and what happened at the end of it. As much as is on the public record and accessible to … shall we say, authorities within the church.”
“Which church?” Ariel said intently. “Who got it right?”
Gabriel chuckled. “I love your optimism,” he said, “but the truth is, the Angels have wormed their way into most of the big ones. None of them have really managed to retain the pure faith according to the Book of Pinian, but … well, difficult circumstances, as I was saying.”
“You also seem to be suggesting that we – or the Pinians, at least – are significant to human religion in some way, with this whole Book of Pinian thing,” Ash said, still feeling cold at the Archangel’s comment about their childhoods, “but everyone’s – what, forgotten the whole religion ever existed?”
“Pretty much,” Gabriel shrugged. “The Pinians, or your God at least, are the chief figures of Earthly theology, and of a lot more worlds besides, but the Disciples were always more sort of … celebrities, here on Earth. Earth was so close to the centre of Pinian
power, you see, the Pinians were less mythology and more tabloid fodder.”
“So geocentric theorists in ancient Greece had the right idea?” Ariel asked.
Gabriel snorted. “Theorists in ‘ancient Greece’, as you so charmingly call it, were in possession of different facts,” he said, “and Earth was never in the centre of the universe, let alone the urverse. But sure, close enough. Yes, the Pinians were important, but it’s understandable that they faded from the theological stage, at least here on Earth, what with everything that was happening.”
“Difficult circumstances,” Ash said sceptically. She’d taken note of the word, urverse, but wasn’t inclined to push for another tangent at this point.
“Yes. And Earth is my specific problem right now. And I think it bears repeating here,” Gabriel continued, looking at Ash, “because you’re looking ready to shoot me…”
“Would shooting you actually do anything?” Ash was unable to prevent herself from asking.
“Not really,” Gabriel replied, “but I’m really too close to that question to answer it dependably, aren’t I?” he put up his hands placatingly again. “Your current lives, as far as I’m concerned, are your own and weren’t orchestrated to any great extent, either by yourselves or by anyone else,” he said. “Yes, you were encouraged to reincarnate together, and you’re increasingly emergent … but to say that you selected a convenient triplet-compatible female of insanely wealthy noble lineage to grow inside, let alone had anything to do with your own orphaning and subsequent quality of life – no,” he shook his head ponderously. “That’s outside my pay grade to even speculate about.”
“But it was all very convenient,” Ash said.
“Ash,” Ariel murmured.
“I’m sorry,” Gabriel said, “I’ve upset you. It’s understandable. Like I said, I’ve been looking for you for so long, I really should have been better prepared for you to finally show up again, especially since the whole focussing thing was supposed to have this result,” he shook his head, then gestured at Ariel. “It wasn’t your health or wealth or fame that really tipped me off,” he went on, “although they were factors. There’s more. You’re an athlete – a swimmer, I understand, and a runner.”
“Yes,” Ariel replied cautiously.
“Of course you are,” he nodded at Ash. “You’re a warrior. And you,” he turned to Roon, “you I wasn’t sure about until I got here, because you’re just as reclusive and quiet as the Third Disciple is in popular myth. You evidently have a lot of the Third Disciple’s strength – and not just literally, but in terms of willpower and ethics. And from what little I’ve gathered, you have his – sorry, her – knowledge and insight. You understand instinctively how things work, and you see things the others are too busy to see. You knew my name when I turned up at your door.”
Ash, Ariel and Agñasta turned sharply to look at Roon, who shrugged and pointed at Gabriel with all the eloquence she really needed to display under the circumstances.
“No,” Ariel said in exasperation, “he looks nothing like a Gabriel.”
Gabriel chuckled. “According to the remaining wisdom, which is mostly inside my thick head, the Third Disciple is good at that sort of thing,” he explained. “Her element is Earth, so she’s sort of…” he twirled a hand.
“Grounded?” Ariel suggested.
“Bad,” Gabriel congratulated her, “but sure, okay, let’s go with grounded. She was always more in touch with nature – and, right from the start, technology.”
“Roon always says that technology is just a new layer on top of natural principles,” Aunt Agñasta said.
“She always says that, does she?” Gabriel grunted.
Roon nodded innocently.
“Alright,” Ariel said, “ignoring the fact that ‘Earth’ hasn’t been an element since the Seventeenth Century … what element am I?” she barely paused. “It’s Water, right?”
“First Disciple is Water, yes,” Gabriel replied. “And famed for being one of the fastest entities in the urverse.”
“That’s me,” Ariel said, bouncing in her seat, jabbing a finger at Gabriel and looking around. “That’s me, guys,” she frowned. “What’s the urverse?”
“Never mind,” Gabriel said dryly. “And the Second Disciple–”
“Fire,” Ash said, “obviously.”
“Fire and Ice,” Gabriel nodded.
“That’s not fair,” Ariel complained. “Why does she get two?”
Gabriel was watching Ash again. Gauging her reactions.
“It’s not just reincarnation and genetic reprogramming we can do, is it?” she asked. “You think we have powers.”
“Vestigial, at least until you come into focus more,” the Archangel nodded. “And in the interests of full disclosure, I should tell you that’s only likely to happen over the course of incarnations. It’s slow and gradual, and only steps up noticeably when you’re in between bodies. Yes, you have … a trickle of your normal power. Uncontrolled. It’s been coming and going for centuries but only recently has it become something we can measure,” he chuckled. “Remember the Fire of London?”
“No,” Ash said suspiciously.
“I do,” Gabriel grinned, then grew serious again. “Your full power is unlikely to develop any more, or fall any further under your conscious control. You’re not going to get powers, as such.”
“Not in this lifetime,” Ariel said quietly.
“Hah,” Gabriel said. “Yes. But don’t go killing yourselves just yet. There’s still plenty of work ahead for you in your current condition.”
“Here it comes,” Arial said to her sisters.
“I’m here,” the Archangel said, “to hire you.”
THE JOB
Ash still looked as though she was wondering how Roon had recognised Gabriel sufficiently to name him, but the more she thought about it the more Ariel realised it made sense.
It was Tumblehedge all over again. It was every weird dream or strange notion Roon had ever had. It was half of the bizarre things she had invented over the course of her life, quite a few of which did not work, or did not do what she’d apparently intended them to do – and in most cases, what had her reaction to that failure been? Confusion. Annoyance. A lingering conviction that the technology she was creating should work, but she had failed to take into account some fundamental nonsensicality of the universe itself.
Things didn’t work, not because of a failure in the things, but because of a failure of the universe to be a universe in which the things worked.
Ariel had always dismissed this as a facet of Roon’s peculiar genius, a sort of foible that would seem like towering arrogance in most other inventors, but in Roon just seemed like a charmingly innocent outlook upon the way things should operate, a daydream of a universe that made sense. But now, with everything this weird Archangel had told them, things began falling into place. All of Roon’s successes, near-successes, near-misses and total failures began to take on a new significance.
It was, even before the revelation that Roon had said Gabriel’s name, one of the most compelling points in the Archangel’s favour. It didn’t necessarily mean she trusted the strange creature implicitly – he was simply too alien for that, and her own subconscious reactions too unnerving – but it did more than his huge dusty wings or his convoluted speeches about them being wondrous immortals in disguise.
“Which one of us do you want to hire, exactly?” Ariel asked him with a smile. “We have rather different skill-sets.”
“Even before taking the magical element-powers into account,” Ash agreed.
“All three of you,” Gabriel replied, ignoring Ash’s sarcasm. “And it’s precisely because of your different skill sets. This isn’t just a military operation,” he nodded at Ash, “and isn’t just the sort of thing that requires high society access and visibility,” he gestured towards Ariel. Ariel quite clearly heard Ash make a low sound of amusement, but Gabriel was already waving a hand at Roon. “And it’s not jus
t the sort of job that requires insight and technology,” he looked around at them. “But it is the sort of job that will incorporate all of those things.”
“Only one problem with that,” Ash said. “We’re not exactly private citizens. I’m a Senior Sergeant in the ASEAN Union Special Forces. I can’t go off doing unsanctioned operations.”
“That’s right,” Ariel jumped in quickly. “It’s called going rogue.”
“No it isn’t,” Ash said dryly.
“Quiet, I’m working up to a thing.”
“Is it the thing where you say you can’t go against contract and act outside the interests of your stakeholders because it’s called going rouge?” Ash asked.
“Why do you take all the fun out of everything?”
Ash grinned. “Even Roon is on the payroll of a few companies and most of her work falls into one or another of their intellectual property buckets,” she added, “although she’s under a few less restrictions than we are.”
“Oh, I never meant to give you the impression that this job would be something you could put on your tax papers as side-work and fit nicely into your existing employment contracts,” Gabriel said. “It’s not even a job that you’ll be able to reconcile with your current conceptions of what reality is, let alone piddling little things like laws and bureaucracy.”
“That sounds like something we’re going to need a lot of convincing to go along with,” Ariel said. “Especially Regulations O’Justice over there,” she directed a whimsical smile at her sister.
“Obviously,” Gabriel said. “I wasn’t expecting to show up at your door, even looking like this, and have you instantly believe everything I said and go along with any zany scheme I laid out on your coffee table.”
“You haven’t laid anything out on our coffee table,” Ariel remarked, adopting a look of disappointment.
“Plenty of time for that,” Gabriel said. “It’s fine, the job’s not going anywhere. It’s not the sort of thing I expected you to leap right into – it’s definitely going to require some adjustment. On all of our parts,” he admitted.
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