by Siegel, Alex
He arrived at his cabin. He had been wearing civilian clothes in anticipation of leaving the camp. He now put his formal robes of office back on. The thick, soft fabric felt like he was wrapped in luxurious towels. He strapped on an assortment of weapons so he wouldn't look out of place in the banquet. He rubbed his eyes to make them red and create the appearance of being a little sick. His nose was already dripping from standing in the cold.
He put his heavy coat back on and rushed through the night. Nobody had tried to kill him, yet, which he took as a good sign. Punishment was a very swift process in the Society. It usually happened at the speed of a bullet. There would be no trial and little conversation, if any.
He entered the main building, and the warmth came as a relief. He hung up his coat and proceeded into the banquet hall. The aromas made his mouth water. The assistants were serving thick stew, Cornish hens, and stuffed baked potatoes.
There was an empty seat across from Sampson. He headed in that direction while trying not to draw attention.
"You came after all," a familiar voice said. "I thought you were sick."
Xavier turned and faced Aaron. With his straight brown hair and strong jaw, he was a fine looking man. He was still enjoying the best years of his life, which made Xavier a little jealous. Xavier was about ten years his senior and starting to feel the claws of old age dragging him down.
"I decided my social obligations exceeded my health needs," Xavier said. "I don't know how long I'll stay though."
"Do you want a pill or something?"
"No, I'll just tough it out. I'll be fine by morning."
"Just tell me if you change your mind," Aaron said. "I want all my guests to be comfortable. It's a shame you missed the award presentation."
"What was the fabulous trophy?"
"Ethel gave Hammer the crown of the North American division."
"What?" Xavier opened his eyes wide. "The actual legate's crown? The authentic article?"
Aaron nodded. "You know about it?"
"Of course! It's mentioned many times in the tabella. I'd love to see it. I'm surprised you didn't know about it. Haven't you read any of the tabella?"
"I don't know Latin."
"Then learn," Xavier said. "The tabella contain the entire secret history of the Society. As a commander, it's your obligation to educate yourself so you don't repeat the mistakes of the past. Besides, they're delightful entertainment. Packed with fascinating true stories, usually written by the people actually involved. Every time I crack open a volume, I don't want to put it down. It's endlessly fascinating stuff."
"Thanks for the good advice. How many have you read?"
"Getting through the entire set is the project of a lifetime. There are three thousand chapters in three hundred volumes. I've read forty books so far, but that's not bad. The archaic language does make it slow going at times. According to legend, if you read every word of every book, you will know the mind of God."
Aaron raised his eyebrows. "Do you believe that?"
"Not really, but it's a nice legend."
"Do you want to take a look at the crown right now? I'm sure Hammer won't mind showing off his trophy. Unless you want to eat first."
"Eating isn't a good idea." Xavier shook his head. "My stomach wouldn't like it."
Hammer had the honor of dining at the legate's table tonight. It was just the two of them. Xavier was a little nervous about getting so close to Ethel. Her weird dark eyes seemed to search out the truth in men's souls. However, Xavier had long ago learned to control his physical reactions completely. He wouldn't seem the least bit guilty or worried in front of her.
"Hello, ma'am." He nodded politely to her. "And congratulations to you, Hammer. It was a very impressive performance."
"Thank you, sir." Hammer smiled. "That means a lot coming from a commander with your proud record of accomplishment."
"I heard you were sick?" Ethel said. "Are you feeling better?"
"Not really, ma'am," Xavier said. "I can't promise I'll stay for the entire banquet."
"That's a shame. We'll miss your fabulous mustache." She smiled a little.
He didn't detect any hostility in her. Aaron also seemed genuinely friendly, as if nothing at all had changed. Xavier was watching for red flags but hadn't seen any so far. He was slowly reaching the conclusion that not fleeing had been the right decision.
Aaron picked up an antique wooden box bound with iron straps. "May I?"
"Please do, sir," Hammer said. "It's not really mine anyway. I'm just holding it on behalf of the legate."
Aaron opened the box and took out the crown. The primary material was a gray metal that was probably a lead or silver alloy. Many black diamonds gleamed with subtle beauty. He gave the crown to Xavier.
Xavier hefted it. "Bigger and heavier than I expected. I can't believe I'm actually holding the real thing. It's like I'm suddenly part of history. I've read a dozen stories about this crown."
"Like what?"
"Let's see if I can remember a juicy one." Xavier furrowed his brow. "This story takes place during the American Revolution. It was a very complicated time for the Society here. Before the Europeans colonized the continent, all the cells were centered on Native American tribes. But by 1776, a transition was taking place. There were some new English cells, some French up north, and a Spanish cell down in Mexico. About half were still traditional Native American teams though. That's a lot of cultures and languages. Not surprisingly, there was a considerable amount of friction between the cells. Even the Indians didn't get along with each other."
"A tough time to be a legate," Ethel said.
"Very. The legate at that time was a shaman who was part of the Shawnee tribe. His home was in Ohio. I won't try to pronounce his name, but it translates to Black Deer. His gift was clairvoyance. He could see things hundreds of miles away. In an age before telecommunications, that was an extremely useful talent. Black Deer was the product of an ancient tradition of Native American legates that had lasted for a thousand years. He had ceremonies for everything. Even the Iroquois respected him, and they tried to kill the Shawnee at every opportunity. He had a crown, but not this one."
Xavier returned the crown to Hammer, who put it in its box.
Xavier continued, "The tabella describe Black Deer's crown as being made of obsidian and pure silver. It was decorated with symbols of great spiritual significance. I expect it was beautiful, but the Europeans hated it. They considered it a barbaric artifact, ill suited for a more 'civilized' age. The Boston cell even went to the trouble of constructing an entirely new crown at great expense. That's the one we have here." He patted the box.
"Two crowns?" Aaron said.
"Which is one too many. The Boston and New York cells travelled to Ohio to present the new crown as a gift to Black Deer. They assumed he would love it, but naturally, he didn't. He was extremely offended by the suggestion his ancient crown was inadequate. Two Indian cells also attended the presentation. So, about forty members of the Society were there, split evenly between English settlers and Native Americans. They had good reasons to hate each other even before the meeting. It was an era of nasty little wars. Everybody was fighting over land, and atrocities were commonplace. The Europeans were certainly no friend of the natives."
"I can guess how this story ends based on which crown survived."
Xavier nodded. "All it took was one mistranslated word, and the fight was on. The English had brought guns, swords, and steel armor. The Indians were armed with tomahawks and bows. They lost, badly. Thus, control of the North American division passed into European hands permanently. Black Deer's crown was destroyed."
"I knew that story," Ethel said, "but you told it well."
"Thank you, ma'am."
Aaron faced the legate. "How much of the tabella have you read?"
"These days I generally do my reading while I'm flying on my jet," she said. "I've gotten through a hundred and twenty books I believe. I doubt I'll survive long enou
gh to get through the whole set."
"Sounds like I have some catching up to do. I don't even know Latin."
"You're young. You have plenty of time, but you probably should get started. Reading the tabella can be very enlightening. I'm sure you'll enjoy the experience once you get past the hurdle of an ancient language with tricky grammar."
"Thank you for the suggestion, ma'am," Aaron said.
She nodded. "I suppose one of my favorite stories is the first one in the entire collection. It describes how the Gray Spear Society was founded."
"I'd love to hear it."
Hammer leaned forward. "Me, too, ma'am."
"Then I'll tell it," Ethel said. "For as long as man has walked the Earth, God has designated certain individuals as special. There were always secret guardians. In ancient times, no formal organization existed though. The guardians operated alone or in small groups. Sometimes families worked together as a team. Most never left the village they were born in, and territories were small. Each guardian served God in his own particular way. The Roman Empire changed that."
She took a drink from her cup.
She continued, "For the first time in history, it was possible for a single group to protect a very large territory. The Romans developed the roads and other technologies needed to achieve effective operational control over long distances. A precursor to the Gray Spear Society formed and grew within the Roman Empire. They were known as the Nightshades, and their symbol was the flower of the deadly nightshade or belladonna plant. Their preferred means of killing was poison, obviously. The Nightshades guarded Europe, parts of Africa, and the Middle East from 500 BC to 500 AD.
"The Nightshades were a flawed organization though. They operated far too openly. They held public trials of people suspected of being in league with the enemies of God. They left bodies in town squares. The Nightshades even performed large scale witch hunts across the countryside and invited civilians to participate. Their methods were brutal and undisciplined."
The Society is just as brutal today, Xavier thought.
"The madness reached its peak in the year 500," Ethel said. "The head of the Nightshades at the time was named Scipio. He was a paranoid megalomaniac who couldn't distinguish between God's enemies and his own personal rivals. He became frustrated with Anastasius, emperor of the Byzantine Empire, who was ignoring Scipio's demands. Scipio decided to solve the problem by killing Anastasius and replacing him as emperor. Scipio intended to take direct control of the entire Byzantine Empire.
"Then God stepped in. In the middle of the night, every Nightshade burst into flame and burned until only gray ash was left. Witnesses reported the deaths were slow and excruciating. Anybody who touched the gray ashes before they washed away eventually became a member of the new Gray Spear Society. Scipio himself didn't burn. He detonated. The crater he left behind was big enough to swallow a house."
Xavier nodded. He had read the same story and believed every word. It matched his own experiences with a cruel and capricious Almighty.
"I should take my seat, ma'am," Xavier said. "I don't want to monopolize your time. This is Hammer's night, not mine."
Ethel made a small gesture with her hand. "You're dismissed."
He quickly walked off.
* * *
An hour later, Xavier was back in his cabin. He had reached his limit of staring at food he couldn't eat and listening to people who should be dead.
He was sitting on his bed, deep in thought. He had a paper map of Camp Zonta in his hand, and the subtitle read, "the funnest fun in Wisconsin!" The map certainly looked like an accurate depiction of the place where he was staying. The buildings appeared to be in the right places. The little drawings of animals around the edges were adorable. The photocopy even had the imperfections he associated with an old copy machine. In other words, it was a great forgery.
Xavier took out his regular gray phone. He couldn't hide this call from the Society, and there wasn't much need anyway.
He put in the number for Dew, his computer expert back in Houston. Hopefully, Dew was sitting at his workstation.
"Hello, sir," Dew answered immediately.
"Hey," Xavier said. "How are things back there?"
"Quiet. It's strange not having you and Sampson around."
"Anything I should be dealing with?"
"Not that I'm aware of, sir," Dew said. "What's the convention like?"
"It's been interesting. I'll give everybody a full report when I get back. We had a tournament today. All the second in commands fought each other."
"I bet Sampson did well. He's a great fighter."
"But he's only human," Xavier said. "He barely reached the second round. There are some real freaks here. Actually, I called you because I have a very strange question. Where am I?"
"Let me see." Dew typed on a keyboard. "Eastern Wisconsin. On the satellite photo, it looks like a big summer camp in the woods. The convention is there?"
"Apparently. Does this camp have a name?"
There was more typing. "Camp Zonta."
"How do you know I'm there?" Xavier narrowed his eyes.
"The tracking system in your phone."
"And it's working correctly? Can you check it?"
"Yes, sir." Dew typed some more. "The signal is strong. No fault indicators. GPS is locked in. Short range and long range triangulation are showing the same coordinates. I'd say it's working perfectly."
"Hmm." Xavier furrowed his brow. "What if I told you I believe my phone is lying."
"I'd wonder if you were drunk, sir."
"What if it were hacked?"
"That system is designed to be tamperproof," Dew said. "There are multiple layers of high grade security. If anybody had tried to physically or electronically hack your phone, I'd see it on my diagnostics. But just to be safe, I'll double-check... the software looks good, sir. You're running the latest release and every byte is correct."
"I'm still convinced my phone is lying," Xavier said. "I'm not in Camp Zonta, and I'd really like to know where I actually am. Let's assume for the sake of discussion that somebody hacked my phone. Who could've done such a thing?"
Dew exhaled. "To penetrate all the security and fool all the diagnostics, you'd have to be some kind of super-genius. At a minimum, you'd need access to all the system specifications. We're talking about somebody inside the Society."
"So, a Society hacker like you could do it?"
"I couldn't, and you know how smart I am. We're still talking about an incredibly difficult problem. Just getting all the math right would be... hmm."
"What?" Xavier said.
"There is one, or rather two hackers who might be able to pull it off."
"Who?"
"Bethany and Leanna," Dew said in a tone of deep reverence. "The twins."
"Who are they?"
"Part of the Chicago team."
That piece of information grabbed Xavier's attention. The twins work for Aaron. "They're smart?"
"Calling them smart is like saying Mount Everest is a big hill," Dew said. "The twins operate on a different level than us mere mortals. The headset I'm wearing right now was designed by them, and it's by far the coolest piece of equipment I have. Ever since they joined the Society, they've been making upgrades to our entire infrastructure. They even invented a completely new form of encryption."
"Let's say the twins hacked my phone. Could you unhack it?"
"You want me to take on the twins? Are you kidding?"
"Where is your sense of adventure?" Xavier said enthusiastically.
"What's this about, sir? What's really going on? I'm coming back to the theory you've been drinking heavily."
Xavier took a deep breath. He had pushed this conversation as far as he dared. "The wine was really good tonight. Maybe I did imbibe excessively. Let's just forget we had this crazy conversation."
"Good idea, sir. I can't imagine any reason why the twins would hack the tracking system. That would be extremely confusing and d
angerous. They could get into a lot of trouble."
Exactly, Xavier thought. "Good night. I'll go to bed and try to sleep off the wine before I make any more dumb phone calls."
"Good night."
Xavier put his phone away.
The conversation with Dew hadn't been as useful as he had hoped. Xavier still didn't know where he was. At least he had confirmed he probably wasn't in Camp Zonta, which meant Hanley had attacked the right target after all.
Aaron was playing some kind of deep game, probably with Ethel's blessing. Xavier had to believe his own activities were the reason for the intricate deception. However, nobody was bursting into his cabin and killing him. He had left the banquet without anybody getting in his way. Aaron and Ethel had spoken to him just the one time with no apparent hostility. All the evidence suggested Xavier hadn't been identified as a traitor.
He decided to not flee quite yet. His top priority was discovering his true location and passing that information off to Hanley. Xavier would work on that problem first thing in the morning. He had told everybody he would stay in his cabin, so he would. He couldn't risk getting caught outside after making such a big deal about being sick.
Getting a full night of sleep was a good idea anyway. He might not get another chance for a while, maybe even the rest of his life.
* * *
Dew stared at his computer monitors. The call with Xavier had left him baffled. The commander was a notoriously serious and sober man. He never proposed a theory unless he was fairly certain it was a fact. In all the years Dew had served Xavier, they had never had a conversation like that.
Dew realized he was hungry and should eat dinner. He was about to take off his headset when his phone rang. He didn't recognize the caller ID, which bothered him. The list of people who knew his number was short.
He answered the call through his headset. "Hello?" he said. "Who is this?"
"Ethel," a woman replied.
He knew that name and that voice. A cold finger ran down his spine. He had met the legate only once, but the experience had left a lasting impression. She seemed to carry the specter of death with her like an outer garment. When he had looked into her eyes, he had seen his own annihilation.