by Emanuel, Ako
She looked suspiciously from one to the other. “How do I know this is not a trick to keep me from finding the spell I want?” she said, paradoxically crouching closer, as if Pa-Kreceno’Tiv were protection against others of his people. “Your son is bound to help me, he offered! I accepted! He is bound!”
What have I done? he wondered, only half-understanding the mythos that the child was laboring under. He groaned and struggled to sit up, and Okon moved with him, still keeping him between herself and his parents.
“The best help I can offer you is knowledge,” he said, and his voice was gravelly. “Knowledge is what you came seeking, is it not? But knowledge always comes with strictures, conditions. I violated some of those, and it hurt me.” Was it right, to perpetuate this myth of divinity? But if he dispelled it, Okon might come to harm. He found that it more than greatly disturbed him to think in such ways, that his parents would send a child to some horrible fate to maintain order on her world. Are we stewards, in truth? Do we have the right to take such a role? Or was it thrust upon us, the need giving rise to the responsibility? I’ll have to research this.
Okon turned her strange, dark brown eyes to him, and he saw the beginnings of feelings of betrayal.
“I will help you,” he said, reassuringly. “But think on this. You are young, small, though clever and powerful. What if you went back with the spell you wanted, banish us, and then someone forces this knowledge from you? What suffering and chaos will that bring to your people? We would be gone, and the times of blood and killing would return to Hereta. Is that what you want?”
Tears filled Okon’s eyes again. “This is a trick,” she said, beginning to draw away. “I know Travel Gods are tricky! You mean to cheat me of what I need, to send me back, powerless and at the mercy of those who would exploit me! But you offered help, Travel God, and your offer binds you! What would happen to you if you broke your own honor?”
Nothing, he thought, at least, not to me, directly. The far-reaching consequences, and political reverberations, however, he did not have the strength to contemplate.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” he said, wearily. “I offered help, so I will help you. But sometimes what you want will not always give you the result you intend.”
Whorl Fifty Five
“I want the power of the Travel Gods to liberate my world, and to keep other power-lusters from...!” Okon began to say, with conviction, but then she hesitated, as if something occurred to her that she did not like. She looked around at all of them, then got up and moved away, crouching again. “You have confused me, now,” she groused, folding her arms. “I knew what I wanted when I came here! I want to rid Hereta of you, I want to make our world ours! But – I want to keep the bad people from hurting others, from hurting those who can’t fight for themselves. But your words make me think that that makes me sound like – like a power-luster! But I’m not, I’m not, I just want my people to be free!”
“Free and safe,” Vespa Kareni’Tiv said, an implied question in her tone.
Okon scowled. “We can have both! Free to use our magic as we wish, and still safe from the power-lusters! You won’t convince me that those two things cannot exist together! Who governs you to keep you from harming the helpless? What of me, when I came here, and hundreds of Travel Gods grabbed me and...!”
Vespa Kareni’Tiv and Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv waited for her to finish. She had risen to her feet in the middle of her exposition, but again she stopped short, as if she searched for the words and glyphs to express her feelings. Was she thinking over what had befallen her, being frightened by the overly curious? Had she truly been harmed by the indolent population that had cornered her?
But harm comes in many forms, Pa-Kreceno’Tiv thought gratingly. Even being studied too closely by too many people can feel like molestation. And what about the sentients on display in the Bustani? Does that not injure them in some way, if only their dignity?
She lowered her hand and dropped her eyes. “They treated me like a thing,” she said bitterly. “A thing to poke and pull at. And you have both, both security and freedom of use of your magic! Do we need to be Gods to have both?”
“Such as we are, we have had time to learn, to mature,” Vespa Kareni’Tiv said, gesturing. “Give your people time. If you fear a return of the times of chaos, then you know, in your inner-most self, that your people aren’t ready. In the meantime, the offer to learn was genuine, not a trick. And our son is still bound to aid you. If you think yourself confined unjustly, he is bound to help you, and he will honor that. Does that satisfy you, at least for now?”
Pa-Kreceno’Tiv looked at Okon. She was a very bright child, forced to grow up before her time, and with very definite ideas and goals. She was brave, too, coming to a strange world by herself, in order to liberate her home. He found himself admiring her, marveling at the person she would become. When she grew up, she would be formidable.
He projected to his mother the desire that she fabricate a token that he could give to Okon, and held up his hand. A disk of chitin, matching his neutral markings, appeared in his palm. It had engravings on it, and there was a single link to his dataSphere connected to it, so that if Okon needed to call him, he would receive it.
“Here,” he said, holding it out to her, though it felt as if his arm weighed as much as an ancient hive. “This will let you contact me. Though I may not be able to answer immediately, I will answer.”
Okon took it, looked it over, then glanced at him to see what part of him it had come from. Trusting in Vespa Kareni’Tiv to complete the illusion, and feeling a little self-disgust as he did so, he turned his shoulder to show her his elytra-pace, and he was sure that she would see what looked like a piece excised, in the shape and size of the disk. There was a shiny ribbon attached to it, and she hesitantly put it on over her head. Then she made a gesture that he assumed was agreement.
“Come, Okon,” Vespa Kareni’Tiv gestured, and the girl reluctantly walked over to his mother and took her hand, her other hand clutched tight around the medallion. Once they left, Pa-Kreceno’Tiv flopped back down to the floor and closed his eyes again. He felt his father’s and Ro-Becilo’Ran’s hands lift him up and deposit him on his resting pad, and then he knew nothing more.
Whorl Fifty Six
Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv was sitting at his study-station, when Pa-Kreceno’Tiv woke again, his head hurting just as much as before. He groaned and held his aching cranium, though he made an attempt to sit up.
His father came over and gave him an analgesic, while pressing him back down. He did not resist, but waited to hear his punishment for what he had done.
“You did well,” Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv said, and he turned his head too fast in surprise, making the pain slash bright and sharp across his vision. He suppressed the moan it dredged up. A glyph surrounded him, gently suppressing the pain.
“Father,” he said, squinting at him, but Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv gestured him quiet.
“Pa-Kreceno’Tiv, there is much we need to discuss, not the least of which was your unauthorized use of the travel-glyph, but – in the situation with the Heretian child, you played your role magnificently.”
How dare we set ourselves up as deities?! he wanted to demand hotly, despite the trouble he was in. But he kept the thought to himself, just gazed at his father.
“I know what you’re thinking, your face expresses it all,” Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv said, raising a vuu-brow. It was a very gentle admonishment that he would have to learn to govern his expression in the future. “As I said, we will discuss it. As to your actions – do you care to explain?”
Pa-Kreceno’Tiv sighed. “I sensed something on the way home,” he said, “a wish to be hidden, concealed. I went back to investigate, by transport, and Becil – Ro-Becilo’Ran, who had noticed that I had noticed something, followed me. But the indolent mobs were too thick, and we had to leave before we could get to what I had sensed. He took images, and when we got back, I used
them to let us travel back to the place. The child, Okon, was there.” He knew his father would be able to read all the nuances of the tale, so he stopped.
“And – you successfully modified the travel glyph, not Ro-Becilo’Ran,” Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv clarified, overtly.
Knowing it would get him into a hive of trouble, he gestured assent. “Becilo’Ran is not taking the Long-Travel lecture.”
“You modified a Long-Travel glyph?” There was actual surprise in his father’s voice. Pa-Kreceno’Tiv looked askance at him. But Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv offered no explanation. “And how did you keep everyone within the Mji’Hive, including us, from knowing you were doing?” his father asked, some unnamable, viscous force in his voice.
Pa-Kreceno’Tiv moved uncomfortably, and everything protested. “I – I veiled it,” he admitted with an inward cringe. Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv’s face stilled, and the weight of his gaze made Pa-Kreceno’Tiv want to squirm with discomfiture.
“Rest,” his father said finally, standing. “I’ll bring you food in a bit. Rest for now. Repercussions come later.”
With that cheerful thought, his father left him to tiredly wonder.
Whorl Fifty Seven
Pa-Kreceno’Tiv woke in the dark. He Nil-ized the lights in his suite, sat up, winced. His head still resounded with pain, and he could barely move his vuu’erio tennae. Hunger gnawed at him, so he made his careful way down to the food preparation area, and found a couple of covered platters waiting for him. He had barely uncovered each when they were emptied, and he did not even taste what was on them.
“Pa-Kreceno’Tiv,” his mother called, and all of the food he had consumed turned to stones in his stomach. “Come here, please.”
Swallowing, he made his way to the salon, where both of his parents were waiting. He sat gingerly across from them, trying not to grunt in pain.
“Your father tells me that you... modified a Long-Travel glyph into a short-travel glyph,” she said. “And that you veiled it from public perception.”
He projected contrition. “I know it’s illegal, but...”
Vespa Kareni’Tiv waved that away. “It was only outlawed to try to save the waning transport industry,” she said. “However, once the Unveiling happened, it became moot, because everyone could formulate their own transport glyph. And veiling it – well, considering what could have happened, had anyone else perceived what you were doing, it’s a good thing that you hid it so successfully. That is not why we are upset.”
He decided not to try to explain further, but just to listen.
“The reason it is so dangerous is that, if you are not versed in its implementation, and you try to take someone with you, as you took Ro-Becilo’Ran, the results can be – horrible. And irreparable. You got lucky, that you did not inadvertently combine your glyph with his, in the travel-glyph, going to the place you found the Heretian child.”
And returning, he thought, could not help thinking. They saw the glyph of it, and were silent with astonishment and alarm.
“You – you traveled both there and back, without incident?” Vespa Kareni’Tiv said in a whisper.
Still, he said nothing. Did it get him into twice the trouble to admit that he had used the travel-glyph illegally, twice?
“Answer us!” his father said, imperiously.
“Yes, Father,” he said, not looking up. “I modified the Long-Travel glyph twice, once to get us there, and once to bring us all back.”
He felt something pass between his parents, though he could not fathom what it was. What would happen, now? Would they block his Nil’Gu’ua? Would his mating-rights be revoked?
“I’m sorry,” he offered, furrowing his brow. “I’ll – never do it again, I promise.”
“No, you will not,” his mother said harshly, and he hung his head under the lash of her voice. “Not unless there is utmost need, Pa-Kreceno’Tiv, will you ever invoke the travel-glyph outside of a recognized Travel terminus ever again!”
Utmost need? he thought distantly, but pushed that to the back of his mind.
“If you sense a presence like the Heretian child again, you come to us,” his father said sternly. “Now – we will not report this to the Gu’Anin Magistrate Council enforcers. You were lucky that you were not caught, or we would not be able to keep this quiet. Ro-Becilo’Ran has also pledged his silence, for he could get into as much trouble as you, for going along with this. But I want you to understand, Pa-Kreceno’Tiv, exactly how serious this is, and exactly how dangerous your little escapade could have been. You would have been permanently stripped of your Nil’Gu’ua, or worse, if things had not gone as they had.”
Worse? he wondered, what could be worse than that? Except, perhaps, what they had implied about – about not keeping my glyph separate from Becil’s. And Okon’s. He clenched his jaw at the memory of the God-mythos that the child had of his people. Where was she now? Was she all right? Where had his mother taken her? He was on the verge of asking, when his father spoke again.
“Don’t worry about Okon,” Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv said, apparently reading the glyph of his concern. “She is in a special institute of learning that is attached to one of the Ministries of the Solidarim. She is being taught how to responsibly use her abilities. She can still contact you, when she needs to.”
He felt relief at that information – he had been worried that she had been returned to her homeworld without a guardian or advocate of any kind, to make her way as best she could, alone. Then he felt intentfulness from his mother, and knew that his punishment was about to be meted out.
“We are banning you from using your Nil’Gu’ua, except as it pertains to Secondus,” she said dispassionately. “You are also confined to the domicive, when you are not in Secondus. Both of these restrictions will be for as long as we deem necessary to impress the gravity of this near-disaster upon you. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Mother,” he said, clenching his jaw. Did that mean that he could not activate his dataSphere, even? He assumed so, but held in a sigh. He waited to hear any additional punishments, but his parents stayed silent. When there seemed to be no further censure coming, he stood, still looking at the ground, and walked slowly back to his suite.
Whorl Fifty Eight
The despair spoke loudly to him as he lay in his suite, staring up at the ceiling. He found that he had no appetite, and when Vespa Karaci’Tiv stuck her head in to call him down to eat, he declined to go.
Not that I’m sulking, he thought peevishly. His wing-nets had emerged, he was too old to sulk. Or so he told himself. I can’t even contact Pavtala Ralili’Bax to tell her that I can’t meet with her. Kara is here, but I can’t ask her to do it for me, without telling her why. And I’m sure Ro-Becilo’Ran is in as much trouble as I am. So he won’t be able contact her, either.
With nothing to do, and the inability to do anything, he was bored, and more than a little angry. It was unfair, that he should be punished just because a failing industry had made the Gu’Anin Magistrate Council decide to illegalize a perfectly legitimate glyph, the short-travel glyph, and he had successfully figured it out and used it. The industry had failed regardless.
Why can’t they simply make it legal again, and teach its use? he groused, scowling. It would be an easy amendment! I knew that I could not let our glyphs mix! It’s just good sense! And I saved them embarrassment from a rogue sentient, who was here illegally, with accusations of abuses of power! I should be rewarded!
He sighed, and his stomach growled. He almost glyph-conjured a meal for himself, before he remembered that he was not supposed to use his Nil’Gu’ua for anything. It might even mean that he could not use his secondary or tertiary retinas. Angrier now, he flipped over and stared at the wall, wanting to punch his rest-pad. He closed his eyes instead, though, and sought sleep, there being nothing better to do.
Whorl Fifty Nine
Pavtala Ralili’Bax was inquisitive on the next turn he went back to Secondus. She had again dir
ected her transport to meet up with the Secondus transport he used. She greeted him with a pained smile when he sat next to her.
“You did not contact me, over the end-turns,” she said quietly. “I thought we were going to do something fun. I thought you were going to tell me what you were involved in.”
He pressed his lips together, but did not answer her. He did not want to let everyone on the transport know that he had done something that had gotten him into serious trouble, and that he was not allowed to go out for fun. She looked at him, a line appearing between her vuu-brows. Then she sat back and crossed her arms, her own mouth firmed in pique. She shot a glance at Ro-Becilo’Ran, then at Ropali Galici’Bel. Ropali Galici’Bel shot a glance at him, then beckoned to Pavtala Ralili’Bax, and whispered into her aur’erio, for a couple of deci-marks. Everyone around them was alive with curiosity, but both girls were very good at not projecting their thoughts as glyphs, and then she sat back, Pavtala Ralili’Bax raised a vuu-brow at him.
“Oh ha,” she said, gesturing comprehension. “I forgive you, then.”
Pa-Kreceno’Tiv glanced at first Ro-Becilo’Ran, then at Ropali Galici’Bel, then finally at Pavtala Ralili’Bax. What, exactly, had his best friend told his pre-mate? And had she told Pa-Kreceno’Tiv’s pre-mate?
Not that it matters, he thought, leaning back and closing his eyes. Just as long as they don’t tell anyone else whatever they know.
Pavtala Ralili’Bax leaned against him, her hand resting lightly on his chest. He sighed and put his arm around her. She was a balm against the despair.
Whorl Sixty
“So – can you tell me what really happened?” Pavtala Ralili’Bax asked, as they took her transport home, rather than using the Secondus transport.
“What did Ropali Galici’Bel tell you?” he asked, hedging.