Trapped

by James Alan Gardner

  “Then how did these hypothetical kidnappers find out?” Impervia asked.

  Myoko didn’t answer right away. Finally, with downcast eyes, she said, “I can think of one explanation. Rosalind.”

  The Caryatid’s motherly eyes grew wide. “You mean he told Rosalind and Rosalind told...”

  Her voice faded away. After a moment, Myoko sighed. “I made Sebastian promise to keep his powers a secret; but when kids fall in love, they hate hiding anything. If Sebastian confessed the truth to Rosalind, she might have reported it to her mother...and we all know what kind of woman Elizabeth Tzekich is.”

  Pelinor scowled in outrage. “You mean Rosalind betrayed him?”

  Myoko shrugged. “I don’t think she wrote her mom and said, ‘I’ve met a guy you should enslave.’ But she might have written, ‘I’ve met a guy I love very much, and I know you’ll let us get married because he’s got these powers that are really special.’“

  “But if that’s so,” Impervia said, “wouldn’t the mother just tell the girl, ‘You have my blessing, bring the boy for a visit?’ Perhaps when Sebastian arrived at the Tzekich home, the mother would throw him in chains and tell Rosalind the wedding was off; but until then, there’d be no need to use force.”

  “Besides,” put in the Caryatid, “the Ring of Knives might kidnap Sebastian, but they wouldn’t murder Rosalind at the same time. A mother would never kill her own daughter.”

  “I’ve heard that mothers kill their own children more often than they kill anyone else,” Myoko said. “But maybe it’s not Mother Tzekich at all. Maybe there’s a spy in the Ring of Knives who learned Rosalind’s secret. Maybe the spy told a rival criminal family, so the rivals killed Rosalind and kidnapped Sebastian.”

  “Or maybe,” Impervia replied, “no one at all has been kidnapped and you’re talking pure fantasy.”

  “Everyone calm down,” Chancellor Opal said, holding up her hands to prevent further argument. “Let’s gather more facts before we get lost in what-ifs. Myoko, Phil...search Sebastian’s room.”

  “What are we looking for?” Myoko asked.

  “Anything unusual. You two know the boy better than the rest of us.”

  Myoko turned to meet my eyes. I nodded. She’d been Sebastian’s psionics mentor; I’d been his don. Between the two of us, we might notice if anything was amiss in the boy’s room.

  “We’ll go,” Myoko said.

  Opal nodded, then shifted toward the Caryatid. “I’d like you to try a Seeking spell on Sebastian’s note. See where the boy is.”

  “If he’s a strong psychic,” the Caryatid said, “I won’t pick anything up. The more psionic power, the more resistant a person is to Seekings.”

  Opal gave a ladylike shrug. “Do what you can. As for the rest of you, start searching the neighborhood. Possible places Sebastian and Rosalind might meet. As Impervia says, the simplest scenario is that the boy is out in the dark somewhere, waiting for Rosalind to show up.”

  The others murmured agreement. Annah, still sitting beside me, glanced quickly my way. An egotistic voice in my head whispered she was sad I’d be going with Myoko instead of staying with her; a more sensible voice told me to stop being a self-centered jackass. Before my two mental voices could start arguing, Opal stood briskly and gestured toward the door. “Go. Be useful. Find something.” She paused. “And nobody wander off alone. In case there are shapeshifters in the bushes.”

  6

  BLADES AND SADDLES

  Myoko and I headed for Sebastian’s room. We walked in silence the whole way...and I could feel rage building up in her, a seething fury utterly unlike the cheerful drinking buddy I knew. I couldn’t remember ever seeing her the least bit angry—not in the middle of bar brawls, not when complaining about the most idiotic of students. The worst I’d witnessed was when she’d walked past the mirror in our faculty lounge and noticed a gray hair on her head; as she yanked the offending strand, she’d embarked on a curse-laden diatribe bewailing the cruelty of a universe that made gray stand out so glaringly amidst “youthful black tresses.” Only the initial burst of annoyance had been genuine: the ensuing tirade was comic relief, purely for the benefit for those of us watching.

  That was the Myoko I knew. Funny. Fun. Playing off the disparity between her outward appearance (dainty, demure) and her joyfully wicked mind. She was one of those rare women who could truly be “one of the boys”—joking more crudely, swearing more colorfully, belching more forcefully, and always with exquisite timing. Best of all, she never went too far: everyone has seen women act more loutish than men, but only gentle-ladies with a feel for the game can make one laugh rather than wince. Myoko had made me laugh a lot; I’d felt comfortable with her from the first day we met.

  But not now. Not with her walking tensely beside me, arms crossed tight against her chest, her mouth a severe line. As if the two of us had just had a fight.

  Maybe in her mind we had: the ongoing fight between psychics and everyone else. It wasn’t something she ever discussed in public; but now that the subject had been broached, Myoko didn’t suppress her long-simmering resentment. Though she’d told us how low-powered she was compared to “real” psychics, she must have lived her fife in constant fear someone would decide she was worth enslaving.

  Her fear was well-based. Naive old Pelinor might have been surprised about psychics being treated as cattle; but that just proved he wasn’t really a high-born knight. Those of us who’d truly been born under a famous coat of arms knew what powerful families did behind closed doors.

  We Dhubhais had always equipped our houses with “resident psychics.” They were treated with respect, fed well, dressed well, and provided with suitably eye-pleasing companions—but they were never allowed off the grounds, and one could often catch them staring into the distance, their expressions carefully blank. Other rich families in Sheba mocked us for our softhearted ways. Those neighbors ruled their “chattels” with an iron hand.

  Was that what was waiting for Sebastian?

  Myoko clearly thought so: that’s why she’d concealed the truth about the boy, even from those of us who thought we were her friends. She’d wanted Sebastian safe; and what place was safer than Feliss Academy? No one expected a gifted psychic at a school like ours. If you truly wanted to conceal a person’s talent—if you wanted to pretend your powers weren’t worthy of attention—the academy was an excellent cover.

  Which brought up the question of Myoko herself.

  I’d always assumed she was like the rest of us—competent enough to teach students the basics, but an utter mediocrity compared to real professionals. Even a small chore like levitating Impervia seemed to require Myoko’s full concentration, not to mention a plenitude of preliminary brow-furrowing. However: after tonight’s squabble at The Pot of Gold, Myoko had chatted casually while holding Impervia aloft...and for a brief moment, it appeared as if Myoko wasn’t exerting herself at all.

  Could she be stronger than she pretended? Could she too be using the academy as camouflage?

  Things to think about as we walked unspeaking through the halls.

  I was carrying an oil lamp, borrowed from Chancellor Opal. When we got to Sebastian’s door, I handed the light to Myoko while I got out my pass key. This broke some wordless barrier between us, because Myoko shuddered and said, “There’s something in the air tonight, Phil. Something big.”

  “Is that a psychic premonition?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t do premonitions. Just TK. Sebastian, on the other hand...”

  “He did premonitions?”

  “He did everything,” she said. “TK. Telepathy. Remote perception with all five senses. I’ve never seen anyone like him.” She paused. “My teachers at psionics school would say it was impossible.”

  I gave a weak chuckle. “Imagine that! Teachers being wrong about something.”

  “Granted. But it’s the nature of psionics that...” She broke off. “Phil, you’ve studied science. Do you know how psionics w
ork?”

  “I’ve heard many theories...but they’re all hot air and hand-waving. The only thing scientists agree on is that psychic powers come from outside intervention. Alien hightech. And sorcery’s the same. Someone a lot more advanced than Homo sapiens decided to get cute.”

  Myoko didn’t look at me; she let herself lean back against the wall beside Sebastian’s door. “You think the League of Peoples did something? To Earth? To humanity?”

  “It’s the only sensible conclusion. Maybe they thought it would be a good joke to make human myths come true. Or maybe they thought they were doing us a favor—fulfilling our oldest fantasies. Maybe they had some secret agenda we’ll never figure out...but it’s no coincidence everything changed at the exact moment they showed up.”

  Myoko didn’t answer; she’d turned her gaze toward the oil lamp, watching the flame’s soft glow. Finally, without looking at me, she said, “You know something, Phil? You’re right.”

  I waited for her to go on. She didn’t. Finally I asked, “What do you mean?”

  “I mean...psychics know. The teachers who taught me—they know exactly what happened.” She turned her eyes toward me. “It’s a deep dark secret, but...” She shrugged. “Do you want to hear?”

  Her voice was nearly inaudible. I said, “Do you want to tell me? If it’s a deep dark secret?”

  “Sure. Why not.”

  She was right about there being something in the air. A night for revelations. I fell silent as she began to talk.

  “Do you know what nanites are, Phil? Nanotech? Microscopic machines the size of bacteria...or even smaller, viruses, single molecules. You’ve heard of such things?”

  I nodded. OldTech fantasies had predicted nano would solve all the world’s problems...provided the stuff didn’t destroy the planet first. But before nanotech had progressed beyond a few rudimentary prototypes, OldTech civilization disintegrated to the point where we couldn’t even make steam engines, let alone microscopic robots.

  “This may surprise you,” said Myoko, “but thirty percent of all microbes on Earth today—things that look like bacteria and viruses—are actually nanites in disguise.”

  “What?” My voice was suddenly shrill: loud enough to wake half the boys on my floor. I lowered it immediately. “What are you talking about?

  “Outside intervention, just like you said. Someone covered our planet with nano: land, sea, and air. The nanites are designed to replace natural microorganisms, then work together to make sorcery and psionics possible.”

  A door opened behind me. The future Duke Simon West-march peered out to see who’d been shouting. He wore his stethoscope around his neck, like a medallion dangling over his pajamas. “Go back to bed,” I told him. “Everything’s under control.”

  He nodded without a word and shut the door—more proof that this was a night when miracles could happen. I turned back to Myoko. “How could anyone replace thirty percent of all microorganisms without scientists noticing? We still have microscopes; not fancy electron ones, but the best you can get with ordinary optics. When I was at Collegium Ismaili, the biology department examined bacteria every day, and I never heard them mention nanites.”

  “Two reasons for that,” Myoko answered. “First, the nanites superficially resemble conventional microbes. Elementary camouflage. Second, the nanites are smart...at least some of them are. Some are like brain cells, coordinating other nano activity. If the brainy ones notice a biologist getting out a microscope, they tell their fellow nanites to clear out. If worse comes to worst, they send in nano-stormtroopers to crack the microscope lens.”

  “Nanites are strong enough to do that?”

  Myoko put her hand on my arm. “Phil, they’re strong enough to lift Impervia. That’s how it works. My psionic powers are just a hotline to the local brain-nano. The brains summon other nano from the surrounding environment to act as microscopic sky-cranes...and up Impervia goes.”

  I tried to picture the physics of how that would work. If lifting Impervia was the action, where was the equal and opposite reaction? I couldn’t figure it out and didn’t want to display my ignorance, so I changed the subject. “So how did you get this psionic hotline?”

  “There are nanites everywhere, Phil—in the food we eat, the water we drink, the air we breathe. They get inside us, the same way normal microbes do. Our lungs, our bloodstreams, everywhere. Some drift inside by accident; others deliberately target humans and work into specific areas of their bodies. Particularly into the wombs of pregnant women.”

  “That doesn’t sound healthy.”

  “Consider it a mixed blessing,” Myoko said. “Some types of nano—and there are thousands of different breeds, each designed to perform a specific function—some types target the brains of developing embryos. They embed themselves shortly after conception so they’re incorporated into the child’s gray matter.”

  I winced. “How many children are infected like that?”

  “All of them, Phil. Every last child born on Earth for the past four centuries. Animals too—the nanites are everywhere, absolutely inescapable. You have them riddling every part of your brain; so do I; so does everybody.”

  For a moment, I thought I was going to throw up. “What are the damned things doing in there?”

  “Mostly waiting. For instructions.”

  “From whom?”

  “Psychics and sorcerers.” She gave me a pallid smile. “Even I don’t like to contemplate that fact too long. But how do you think telepaths read minds? It’s not tricky once you realize everyone’s brain is full of nanites that have been linked into your mental processes almost since conception. They know what you’re thinking...and they transmit it to receivers in the telepath’s brain. As simple as OldTech radio.”

  “Simple.” I made a face. None of this was the least bit simple. Were all the nanites in my head taking up space that should have been used by brain cells? Did they actually replace brain cells, the same way they’d replaced thirty percent of the natural bacteria and viruses in our biosphere? Were all my thoughts partly running on alien-built nanites rather than regular neurons?

  And how did they get enough energy to transmit radio waves? Only one way: they must tap into the body’s energy, sucking nutrition from blood just like normal cells. Parasites. Extraterrestrial parasites in the brain. Though I’d lived with them all my life, I still felt close to vomiting. “If we all have these things in our heads,” I asked, “why aren’t we all psychics?”

  “Ah,” said Myoko, “there’s the trick. The nanites most people have in their brains lie dormant till they receive an outside stimulus...but as I said, there are different types of nano. One particular type—extremely rare—also plants itself into people’s brains; but this type has the ability to initiate action. For example, it can tell the nanites in other people’s brains to send it signals.”

  “And that’s the difference between a telepath and everyone else? The telepath has one of these initiator nanites?”

  “That’s it. That’s the whole secret.” She gave a self-conscious laugh. “Of course, there are plenty of complications.” Myoko lifted her gaze to meet my eyes. “Do you know what it feels like when I use my telekinesis?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know...maybe like you’ve got a phantom arm?”

  “An arm? Hell, I’d kill for an arm.” She rolled her eyes. “You know what I’ve got, Phil? A phantom knee. My right knee, to be exact. When I picked up Impervia tonight, I visualized tucking my knee under her, then shoving her up, up, up...the feel of it, which muscles would move when, picturing everything exactly. Of course, I couldn’t lift Impervia with my real knee—I can’t keep a full-grown woman perfectly balanced with just my kneecap jammed against her back. My psychic knee can do things my physical knee could never pull off. But in the end, it’s still just a knee; exasperatingly limited. When I think what I could do if I had a hand: the joys of manual dexterity, Phil, the joys of manual dexterity!”

  I had to laugh. Myoko di
d too. “The thing is,” she said, “it all depends where the initiator nanite plants itself in a psychic’s brain...and how far outward it sends its pseudoneural connections. My initiator landed in the part of my brain that controls my right knee. As simple as that. So when I focus my attention on my knee in a particular way, the initiator responds.”

  “Hmm.” I thought for a moment. “And it responds by sending radio messages to nearby nanites in the air. It tells those nanites to get together and lift Impervia...or to do whatever else the initiator wants.”

  “Exactly!” Myoko gave my arm a squeeze. “A psychic’s power is entirely determined by where the initiator settles in. If it lodges in your visual cortex, you’ll be able to see psionically. Maybe you’ll be clairvoyant: your initiator can link with nanites half a continent away and see what they see. Or maybe you’ll perceive auras...which means your initiator communicates with nanites in other people and presents their emotional states as colors. You might even be able to project optical illusions; your initiator sends images from your visual imagination to receiving nanites in other people’s brains. Voila: they see what you want them to see. There are lots of variations—visual processing occupies great swaths of our brains, and you get different effects depending on where the initiator lands within those swaths.”

  “I suppose if the initiator lands in a hearing center, you can hear things happening far away...or project sound illusions, or maybe hear other people’s thoughts, transmitted by their own mental nanites.”

  Myoko nodded. “That’s the idea. Things get weird if the initiator plunks down in an exotic corner of your mind; there was one guy at school whose initiator lived in his primary pleasure center and he could transmit the most...” She suddenly stopped in embarrassment. “Figure it out yourself.”

  “Lucky guy,” I said.