The Stars Asunder: A New Novel of the Mageworlds

by Doyle, Debra; Macdonald, James D.

  And the eiran were there. With barbs and hooks and razor edges, twisting like worms and striking with their cut and broken ends like snakes. He reached out a hand and took one of the eiran. It lifted him from his feet and snapped him about like a man riding a fire hose. He seized the silver-white line with both hands and held on.

  The line pitched and bucked. He could feel his hands cramping, and his sides growing bruised as the other eiran struck and flailed against them. No scenery came to fill the picture around him, only the stark black and silver of the place, telling him that no choices save victory or death awaited. No greys, no colors—and, more importantly, no long view. Only what lay close at hand.

  The line seemed to be tiring, like a live thing that had struggled against its captor too long. It sank down, its motion slowed. He pulled it toward another line—I hope it’s the right one. Is connecting two unrelated lines of life and luck worse than leaving them broken?

  Doing nothing was worse. It was doing nothing that had brought the universe to its current state, and he could not in good conscience do nothing. He pulled the lines together, and watched the lines meld, a slightly darkened seam filling in and glowing brightly.

  “I know you,” a voice said. The accent was strange; he couldn’t easily place it. “I know you now.”

  It was the prisoner. She was gazing at the Circle with wide, dark-pupiled eyes. “You are Adepts,” she said. “I have never heard of Adepts working together. But I know you.”

  “‘Adepts,’” said Arekhon. The word had an unfamiliar ring to it; Garrod had never covered it in his language instruction. “Are they good people?”

  The prisoner shrugged. “Many say no. Whenever something bad happens, they are blamed.”

  “What do you say?”

  “My brother is one,” she replied. “And I think—if I could talk with him—that he would tell me that I need to go with you.”

  40:

  Year 1130 E. R.

  SPACE: OCTAGON DIAMOND

  The Diamond made the journey back across the interstellar gap in a single transit. The acting Pilot-Principal, with Arekhon’s help as translator, had succeeded in converting Rain-on-Dark-Water’s chart data into a format that the Diamond’s ship-mind could use. He didn’t want to compound his chances of error by making two jumps instead of one. The prisoner had helped also—teaching the use of the Diamond’ s controls, and the art of communicating with the ship-mind—though she spoke more to Arekhon and the Circle than she did to the Rain’s regular crew.

  Arekhon, for his part, had learned the prisoner’s name by now, or at least as much of it as she was willing to share with her captors: She called herself Karilen, Karil for short, and if she had a family name she did not choose to give it. Nor did she ever volunteer the names of her shipmates who had died on board Forty-two

  The transit this time was a quick one. The Diamond’s dual-engine system—one set, huge and powerful, for maneuvering in normal space, and the other, compact and fuel-efficient, for pushing the ship through the Void—took them across the gap at a pace Arekhon would not have believed when he left Eraasi aboard Rain-on-Dark-Water.

  Captain sus-Mevyan summoned him to the Diamond’s bridge for the emergence into homeworlds space, and requested the prisoner’s attendance as well. “The Pilot-Principal thinks that Eraasi is somewhere around here,” said the fleet-apprentice who brought the message. “The Captain wants a luck-bringer on hand in case he’s mistaken.”

  “Fair enough,” said Arekhon. “If the Pilot-Principal and I figured the emergence point wrong, our names will go up on the family tablets a lot earlier than we’d planned.”

  Karil, frowning, asked, “Is the danger really that serious?”

  “Almost,” he told her. They spoke in the Entiboran language—his fluency in that tongue had increased markedly with practice, and he told himself it was for the sake of translating the Diamond’s logs and instruction manuals. “Our charts and yours don’t interface very well. And none of us have taken a ship like this one through the Void before. That’s where you come in. If anything goes wrong, you’re the expert.”

  She gave a short laugh. “Not that much of an expert. What I don’t know about starship engines could fill an entire book.”

  “You know more than the rest of us,” Arekhon said.

  He didn’t add that if the Diamond were lost or damaged, Karil’s hope of escaping back to her own people went with it. He knew that the Entiboran hadn’t given up on the idea—it showed in countless small things, like the names she didn’t speak—but he didn’t see any point in bringing up the subject in front of the fleet-apprentice, who might understand more Entiboran than he let on. The reticence said something, Arekhon supposed, about his own changing allegiances. The capture of Forty-two had altered his relationship with the sus-Peledaen fleet in ways that formal severance from the line had not; losing Elaeli had increased his sense of isolation even further.

  In the company of Karil and the fleet-apprentice, he went up through the Diamond’s narrow, sharply angled passageways to the bridge compartment. sus-Mevyan was waiting there, poised just behind the pilot’s station like a predatory bird.

  Arekhon gave her a polite bow. “You requested my presence?”

  “Yes, Lord Arekhon,” the Captain said. “Now that you’re here, we can proceed.” She raised her voice slightly to reach the Diamond’s audio pickups. “Stand by for dropout.”

  “Dropout on time,” echoed the Pilot-Principal. His voice was tight—and no wonder; this was a test of his abilities, and the price of failure was more than usually high. “Stand by, on my mark. Mark.”

  “Emerging from Void-transit,” said the voice of the ship’s engineer over the audio. A shiver of discontinuity passed through the bridge, and the bank of flat-screen monitors that had been unlit and empty clicked on and started glowing into life.

  “Checking position,” said the Pilot-Principal. Several minutes of tense silence followed before his shoulders relaxed a bit and he said, “We’re inside homeworlds space, Captain. A bit off where we wanted to be, but I should be able to refine our accuracy before the next transit.”

  “Excellent,” the Captain said. “See if you can take us to a safe port. It doesn’t have to be Eraasi—any world will do, as long as the family has contacts there.”

  The communications specialist broke in, saying, “Something odd, Captain. Old message traffic, but it’s showing a profile I don’t recall seeing before.”

  “Never mind that,” said Karil, in the badly-accented Eraasian she had been learning from the Circle. Everyone on the bridge turned to stare at her. In the company of the Rain’s regular crewmembers she normally kept silent unless directly addressed, and even then maintained her distance. She was pointing at a flashing red light on one of the bridge consoles. “You need go faster now. Someone coming at you, intercept course, hitting you with scan.”

  “Engineering!” snapped sus-Mevyan over the audio link. “Increase normal-space speed by twenty-five percent.” She turned back to Karil. “You’d better be right. How did you know about the intercept?”

  Karil ignored the captain and looked at Arekhon. “Diamond has sensors—can detect scan,” she told him. She switched briefly to her own language. “It’s why we didn’t expect you to attack; you hadn’t scanned us first.”

  She glanced over at the console—the red light was still flashing—and switched back to Eraasian. “Not going fast enough.”

  sus-Mevyan’s lips tightened. “We’re already going as fast as I feel is prudent.”

  “Ship like this has speed,” Karil said. She folded her arms. “Don’t listen if don’t want to.”

  The communications specialist broke in before the Captain could react. “I’m getting another odd signal. Very high frequency, showing up-Doppler.”

  “Other ship throwing things at you,” Karil said. A second red light beside the first began to blink, and a buzzer sounded. Karil pointed to another button. “I you, I push that.�
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  “What does it do?” Arekhon asked. He repeated the question in Entiboran—this was no time for nuances to get lost in a linguistic haze.

  “Automatic close-in defense system,” said Karil, in the same language. “It should handle your homing missiles.”

  Arekhon translated rapidly. sus-Mevyan frowned.

  “‘Should?’”

  Karil shrugged. “Might. Nothing perfect, this universe.”

  “Oh, very well,” the Captain said. “Pilot-Principal, set the switch. And increase speed another twenty-five percent.”

  “Lost the signal,” the communications specialist said a moment later, and the second red light stopped blinking. A moment later the voice of the engineering officer came over the bridge audio.

  “Captain, we just took a number of micrometeorite hits all along the starboard side. Some small leaks, but the plugging and patching teams are out. No major problems.”

  “‘Micrometeorites’?” Karil asked Arekhon quietly. She stumbled a little over the pronunciation; the word wasn’t one that they’d had cause to use before.

  “Tiny little rocks,” he explained in Entiboran. “They show up some places, orbiting stars.”

  “Ah,” said Karil. “Micrometeorites. Not this time; those were fragments from the missile. Listen, Arekhon … I’ve learned enough from you during the last few months to know that your people don’t do this ‘war’ thing like we do. But I think while you were away from home, somebody figured out the concept.”

  The transit to Eraasi was short, only a few hours in duration. Arekhon spent the time in the jury-rigged meditation chamber, fretting about the ship—the homeworlds ship—that had fired on the Diamond without so much as a query first.

  The rest of the Circle shared his apprehension. Ty sat on the deck at the edge of the white-painted area, hugging his updrawn knees and rocking back and forth. Arekhon suspected that he was reliving the capture of Forty-two. Ty had recovered from his shock, for the most part, during the transit from Entibor, but an attack on their own ship could easily have brought the memories rushing back.

  After a while Arekhon caught his eye; the young Mage stopped rocking and said, “Shouldn’t we do at least a small working for the emergence at Eraasi? I mean, if things have gotten so bad they’re shooting at people …”

  “If the Captain requests it,” said Arekhon. “But she appears to have the situation in hand.”

  Narin sat on the borrowed storage crate that served to hold the Circle’s robes and candles and practice staves, sharpening her knife on a pocket whetstone. Arekhon remembered her using the same knife to fillet silverlings in the kitchen at Demaizen, the day that he brought home the sus-Peledaen charts.

  “I wouldn’t do a working right now unless I had to,” she said. “There’s no telling who else is pulling on the eiran, or what they’re pulling for.”

  “The real question,” said Iulan Vai, “is whether that was a one-time problem, an outlaw ship of some kind—”

  “With homing missiles?” Arekhon said. “The families wouldn’t let technology like that go rogue.”

  Vai shook her head. “You’d be surprised what the big industrial companies on Ayarat and Ildaon were trying to buy, not too long before we left Hanilat.”

  “How would you know?” Ty asked.

  “Let’s just say I had a professional interest,” Vai said, and went on, “whether it was an outlaw ship of some kind, or whether it belonged to one of the fleets.”

  “Better outlaws,” Arekhon said, “than that. The homeworlds have changed since we left, and I don’t think they’ve changed for the better.”

  The door-buzzer outside the meditation chamber sounded as he spoke; he nodded to Vai, who was closest, and she toggled the entry switch. The door unlocked itself with a heavy metallic click, and swung inward enough to admit the same fleet-apprentice who had brought sus-Mevyan’s summons before.

  “The Captain requests that Lord Arekhon sus-Khalgath come to the bridge for the emergence at Eraasi,” the apprentice said.

  So, Arekhon reflected, Captain sus-Mevyan felt as worried as he did about the state of affairs in the homeworlds. She feared trouble, coming back from her long voyage with one ship lost and another, stranger one serving in its place, and she wanted Arekhon—prime instigator of the voyage, First of the ship’s Circle, brother to the head of the sus-Peledaen—on hand to speak for her if it became necessary.

  “I’m on my way.” Arekhon stepped past the fleet-apprentice, and started for the Diamond’s bridge. To his surprise, Iulan Vai followed him out into the passageway and matched her pace to his.

  “I think I’d better come along for this,” she said.

  He looked at her curiously. “What for?”

  “Insurance,” she said. “I used to know a lot of people—the sort who don’t care if they’re talking to Lord Somebody sus-Somebody-else—”

  “The sort who might have gotten their hands on misplaced fleet-family technology?”

  “You could say that. And a few of them owe me favors I never bothered to call in.”

  The shiver of transition passed over them before Arekhon could frame a reply. When they reached the Diamond‘s bridge, the bright star that was Eraasi’s sun shone at them from the Diamond’s multiple flat screen monitors. Captain sus-Mevyan was pacing back and forth in front of the array; she met Arekhon’s arrival with a curt nod.

  “Good—you’re here. Communications—I need to talk with the sus-Peledaen. Give me whatever you can.”

  “Got it, Captain.” The communications specialist sat in a tangle of wires connecting the Rain’s salvaged ID transponder and crypto gear to the Diamond’s comm panel. Arekhon had helped with the translations for that job as well; it had been easier than patching together the navigational systems, even if the result wasn’t particularly elegant.

  “Very well. Let me know the instant someone answers up.” sus-Mevyan scowled at the array of flat-screen monitors. “I’d give almost anything for decent bridge windows—these screens are nothing more than annoying. What happens if we lose power?”

  “Getting a reply, faint,” the communications specialist reported. “syn-Avran syn-Peledaen, calling us. Wants us to present a positive identification.” He listened to his headset for a moment longer. “They seem to be concerned that our present configuration doesn’t match what’s on record for the ship with this transponder.”

  “Let me talk with him,” Arekhon said. “I know the man.”

  “Do so,” Captain sus-Mevyan said. “Output on open speakers.”

  Arekhon moved into range of the audio pickup. “Captain syn-Avran, this is Arekhon Khreseio sus-Khalgath sus-Peledaen. Do you recall when I was with you on the Ribbon for my apprentice voyage? I was one of those two apprentices who brought back news about sus-Dariv’s Path-Lined-With-Flowers lifting from Ildaon—we picked up some leind’r out of it.”

  “Understand Arekhon Khreseio sus-Khalgath sus-Peledaen,” the reply came back. “What was the name of your particular friend on that voyage?”

  A reasonable request, Arekhon reflected. Anyone could give his name, and the matter of the Path could have been found in the Ribbon’s logs. A cautious man like syn-Avran would want corroborating details … . “Elaeli Inadi,” he said. “You’ll find her on the family rolls as Inadi syn-Peledaen these days, with my name down as sponsor.”

  There was silence for a while. Then syn-Avran’s voice came over the speaker again. “Elaeli Inadi syn-Peledaen is listed as Pilot-Principal for Rain-on-Dark-Water. Put her on.”

  Arekhon closed his eyes tightly for a moment and drew a deep breath. “I regret to inform the fleet-family that Inadi syn-Peledaen was a … casualty … on the voyage. Unable to comply.”

  “Stop your engines. You’re entering sus-Peledaen controlled space.”

  “May I, Captain?” Vai said, before sus-Mevyan could speak.

  “If you think you can help, go ahead.”

  Vai moved into audio pickup range. “Capt
ain syn-Avran,” she said. “This is Iulan Vai. If you’ve got Rain-on-Dark- Water’s crew list there, you’ll see that I’m listed with the ship’s Circle. Do you recall the last time we met, on the corner of Port and Lily Streets in Hanilat? I handed you an envelope, you handed me one. Do you want me to embarrass you all over the system by telling you what was in both of those envelopes, in the clear, on a common frequency?”

  There was another pause, this one not so long as before. “ID check complete, Rain-on-Dark-Water. I intend to escort you to orbit.”

  Captain sus-Mevyan took Vai’s place by the audio pickup. “Thank you for your assistance, Captain. We accept with gratitude. It’s been a long trip. Request you pass to Lord sus-Peledaen that I’d like to report to him in person as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll pass that along.” The carrier wave clicked off.

  “What was in those envelopes?” the Captain asked Vai.

  “Dirty laundry,” Vai said. “And enough soap to make it all clean again.”

  The captain raised an eyebrow but made no further comment. “Shape course for Eraasi,” she said to the Pilot-Principal.

  “Ahead slow. And switch off that close-in weapons system. I don’t want to shoot any of my friends.”

  41:

  Year 1130 E. R.

  ERAASI: OCTAGON DIAMOND

  HANILAT STARPORT

  Octagon Diamond hung in orbit over Eraasi. There was no cradle in the yards, Arekhon knew, that was large enough to take her, and like the lost Rain-on-Dark-Water, she had never been intended to touch ground. She could only wait; but she did not have to wait for long.

  “Shuttle inbound,” the communications specialist reported as soon as the orbit had stabilized. “And a message: Lord Natelth is pleased to welcome us back from our historic voyage. Captain sus-Mevyan, the First of the ship’s Circle, and our honored guest are invited to dine with him tonight in Hanilat.”