Solomon Dell hated preconceptions. He had led the Rancelmen, the branch of the Xaian Traveler’s Guild that dealt with protecting those who used the Portals between worlds, and in that line of work preconceptions could be fatal. Assuming some smuggled animal was just a genetically engineered pet was a quick path to having teeth in your neck, or informing the University that a very interesting new disease was on the loose and someone needed to talk to Guild Medical …
“Sir, we have a report,”
Dell looked up from his desk. He wore his armor whenever it appeared he’d be called into duty, and as of late, that had been often. His sudden jolt to attention reminded him that even the well-crafted armor provided some restrictions.
“Yes, Mikhail?” Solomon asked.
Red Mikhail looked uncomfortable. This wasn’t easy to imagine as he was a large, hulking man with feline features and striped fur on his face. It was hard to imagine him uncomfortable - he usually made others feel that way. He was very good at it. He was the on you sent in to tell people in no uncertain terms their cargo was confiscated and going on vacation and no one was going to listen.
“HuanJen, sir, he’s involved.” Mikhail measured each word carefully. Mikhail was one of those people who could use a tone of voice to make one word into a sentence. You had to listen to him carefully, or you could miss nine-tenths of what he was really saying.
“Of course,” Solomon steepled his hands, “I …”
“You should talk with him directly. Sir.”
“I should not,” Dell’s eyes bored into Mikhail’s. The feline man seemed taken aback.
“I see,” Mikhail nodded, then closed the door.
“Mikhail …” Dell began. He knew when it was time to lead and when it was not. This was one of those personal times - if he lead, he’d have less of them. He had too few as it was.
“He is your friend, I know. Sir. But he is also someone that we must be concerned about. Years of good fortune and two months of hard work. And the Traveler’s and Guild Esoteric have had their differences. We do not need more.”
“I never thought of you as one for politics, Mikhail,” Dell said sourly. As a rule, no Rancelman liked politics. It made life more complicated and sometimes shorter.
“I am not. That is why I like to see them avoided as much as possible. Sir, he …”
“HuanJen is an Esotericist,” Dell looked down at the papers on his desk dismisively, “The surest way to make things worse is to get me involved. HuanJen is a suspicious type for his nature. I would make it worse.”
“I … will trust your judgment. Sir.”
“Good. If you didn’t I’d have even more to worry about …”
Xai was not a crossroads of alternate dimensions due to chance and a magnetic field altered by various celestial events. It was the Crossworld, the Where-we-All go. That’s the way many inhabitants and even more hopeful travelers thought of it.
Metris was not a maze. Many people who lived there would argue that, especially if they were employed by the City’s Bureau of Commerce and Tourism. Metris was not labrynthian. It was delightfully complex and organized into a variety of colorful subcomunities, at least according to the brochures.
And below the colorful subcommunities, was the Maze. The Maze was what Metris used to be until people remodeled it and built new Metris. As the city was, at best estimates, up to two aeons old, there was about as much Maze as Metris. It was, arguably, used for maintenance of the sewer system and to avoid traffic, but in reality, it was simply the Maze.
“You know, we’ve got to put in a request to have people map the outer parts of this place,” A voice echoed among the old basements, sewers, and access corridors of the Maze.
That voice came from Jade.
Jade would be described as “an example of the diversity of Metris and Xai” by the Bureau. In her case it meant that she was a human covered in short black fur, had a head of luxurious black hair, luminous green eyes, and white highlights on her ears and hands. Her people, the Vulpines, were reminders of how far humans would play with genetics on different worlds.
The reminder of human genetic engineering and diversity in Metris wasn’t happy.
“This changed. I was here two weeks ago!” Jade played her flashlight over newly-poured concrete that was the focus of her rage.
“My guess is this happened when they stabilized the Peroski Warehouse,” said HuanJen as he emerged from the shadows behind Jade.
HuanJen would not have been described by the Bureau of Commerce and Tourism. He wasn’t nearly interesting enough. He was, merely, a tall, plain-looking oriental man with a streak of white in his dark hair. He didn’t stand out so much as stand aside.
Then you looked in his eyes, and found you couldn’t look away. Things seemed to fall into them. One who came to know him, and he had a way of becoming known, would find out he was a Magician-Priest of a Taoist Order, a mystic. But one just had to look into his eyes to get an idea that he was not as simple as he seemed.
HuanJen looked down at a small piece of paper, “We will lose him if we are not careful …”
“I know …” Jade gritted her ivory-white teeth, “Sorry. I hope this guy is still at the restaurant. And I hope the haunt doesn’t get clever.”
There was a moment of silence.
“It’s a fully sentient haunt,” HuanJen said nonchalantly, “In possession of a mid-level Technologist. The chance for it to be clever is twice normal.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” Jade reached behind her, unlatching a short, black staff from her back. It’s end, a greenish sphere with a blade mounted on it, glowed eerily.
The Bureau, if it was still trying to describe Jade or HuanJen, would have noted this was a Lakkom, an unusual kinetic weapon, and that at this point it would be best to run.
“Let’s kick some ass,” Jade said.
“Merely leave the immaterial ass to me.”
The Bureau of Commerce and Tourism would note, admittedly in very fine print, that there were a few unusual things that one had to cope with. Inspections by the Rancelmen. The important difference between the more civilized areas around Metris, Piscion, and Kraftbourne versus the frontiers.
Oh, and, explained very carefully, the fact that on the crossroads-worlds attracted many beings and phenomena, and things often thought of supernatural were not particuarly super, and considered very natural. It was best to remember that myths and legends and religions on whatever world one came from were there for a reason.
However, it was also noted that the oldest Guild, Guild Esoteric, was always on watch for personal, spiritual, and psychological needs. And if you needed an exorcist, they were your men, women, and unidentifiable products of genetic engineering.
Some people, some visitors didn’t take that advice seriously. This usually changed after a few appropriately traumatic incidents.
There was a diner named Clarance’s on the corner of Easy Way, and Big Hooker Avenue, two unfortunately named streets in the Warehouse district that were in desperate need of either renaming or a population understanding their original meanings. Of course the owner of the diner wasn’t even named Clarance, so it probably didn’t matter.
The Warehouse district was not a scene of much excitement. People brought in cargo. People brought out cargo. People milled to and from the Trade Zones near the Portals. There were occasional inspections.
Nothing much happened, but then again, Xai was a place of balance. Nothing was bound to attract something.
HuanJen and Jade emerged into the kitchen of Clarance’s and into a small group of very surprised cooks. HuanJen calmly produced a Guild Esoteric membership card from a series of pouches on his belt, remaining placidly calm. He seemed to give off a kind of calmness, suggesting that if he wasn’t upset, neither should anyone else be.
With the staff relaxed, he headed out for the dining area, Jade in tow. She nodded at the cooks, trying desperately to not look like a woman carrying a strange, glowing weapon. She s
ucceeded enough that she didn’t break HuanJen’s strange aura of calm, much to her relief. Occasionally, she found she rubbed people the wrong way, and he was usually a cure to that.
The dining area was typical Xaian diner - reasonably open, quiet, and homey. Xaians liked friendly surroundings, and they put visitors at ease.
Several eyes turned towards the clerical couple, then away. They looked as if they felt they should be there, though HuanJen’s coverall and belt of pouches fairly screamed “Guild Esoteric.” Guild Esoteric’s uniform was often said to be anything that looked like anyone who didn’t belong to any other guild, but looked like they were up to something.
HuanJen walked, calmly, over to a booth with a single occupant, an older man, wearing the silver diadem of the Technologists’ Guild and a pair of simple coveralls. The man looked curious as HuanJen sat at the booth.
Jade hovered nearby, at the ready. Her body seemed to vibrate, like a violin string.
“It’s time to go home,” HuanJen said simply. There wasn’t any malice or command in his voice. However, there was the hint that most anyone should probably be listening to him. It was a voice sued to making sense.
The man set down his sandwhich. “I …”
The man blinked. HuanJen kept looking at him. Upon closer inspection, it was more as if he was looking into him.
“It’s fine, go away,” the Technologist said. There was a glimmer of annoyance in his words.
“Klarila is wondering about you,” HuanJen said sympathetically. Nearby, Jade took a seat at an empty table. She watched carefully - watching HuanJen deal with possession had been a major part of her introduction to Xai.
She could definitely tell he was possessed. There was something she learned over time, a sense of when things were out of balance, and two people in one body was definitely out of balance. She’d seen it several times in her time on Xai.
The possessed man seemed to stare at a spot a half-second to the right of reality.
“She will be fine,” the Technologist said thickly, “Now, if you please …”
“… I’m doing this easy at her request,” HuanJen’s voice was still calm. Each word was like a sheet of silver. “She had asked Rotan Brownmiller for help. You know Rotan, don’t you? You met him …”
“I’m fine.” the man said edgily, “go away. That is a request.”
“I …”
“Huan, there’s someone at the door looking for you,” Jade leaned forward, whispering to her lover and mentor.
“Beg pardon …” HuanJen turned around.
There was a man and woman standing in the diner doorway. Both wore native braids - he a single braid with blue beads, she several with large green beads. They were dressed so plainly that it would have been remarkable - even the colorful native clothing they wore seemed dull. They were two people obviously trying to look like someone else, and managing to call attention to it as sure as if they held signs reading “WE ARE UNDERCOVER.”
“I think they want to talk to you,” the Technologist said with a hint of flippancy. “Good day.”
“Good day,” HuanJen said absently, rising out of the chair and heading to the doorway of the diner.
“He’s your lover, isn’t he?” The Technologist asked, picking up his sandwhich again.
Jade regarded him curiously. Her fingers twitched.
“He’s not as scary as I’d expect,” the man said. His eyes twinkled. “Good day.”
“Yeah,” Jade muttered, “whatever.”
She didn’t like the dead who haunted other people’s bodies. They tended to lack respect for other people. Though, they usually had the decency to at least be scared by HuanJen …
HuanJen and Jade were walking slowly towards one of the Trolley stops that dotted Metris. Metrisian traffic made it much easier to rely on public transportation, which was safe, cheap, and didn’t occasionally end up on the sidewalk.
“Well?” Jade asked. She’d given HuanJen and herself some time to get away from the couple at the diner.
HuanJen nodded. “He was under observation.”
“Yeah, two shamans,” Jade nodded noncommittally, “you know, they’re so used to wearing those nightmare rainbow outfits you can tell when they’re out of them. What, I mean the guy’s wife seemed convinced he was possessed, hell I could tell …”
“You could?” HuanJen stopped, looking at Jade carefully.
“Well … sort of.” Jade appeared flustered. “You get a kind of sense of wrongness about things. Like things are fuzzy or split. Sort of.”
“That’s … wonderful.” HuanJen seemed proud. “I thought you were having trouble with your meditations?”
“A bit,” Jade shrugged, “anyway, what he was possessed voluntarily? His wife was frantic! So was her mother.”
“Well, I don’t think he knew his mother in law was second-sighted. She’s registered but she doesn’t use it professionally.” The cleric scowled, a rare expression for him. “I don’t like being told how to do my job, and the poor woman was very upset.”
“Yeah, we ought to drop by,” Jade said, “and explain, what? That Guild Esoteric says all things are nicey-nice?”
“Let me devise a solution,” HuanJen said thoughtfully.
“Sure. I …”
“Yes?” HuanJen smiled at his apprentice/lover. He had sensed the change in her stream of thoughts.
“Eh, nothing. Still doing the guy/night girl night thing tonight. Kinda odd, but …”
“I know,” HuanJen shook his head, “Now and then it seems pleasurable to do things with people of the same gender, however.”
” . .. even Lorne and Xianfu … sorry, bad joke.” Jade grimaced at her own odd voyage into humor.
“Jade, what is wrong,” HuanJen asked with just a bit of irritation.
“I’m … just thinking things over, OK? Got a lot on my mind.”
“Of course,” HuanJen nodded.
His eyes told her that she could talk to him any time. However, she felt, that was, in the way, the problem. It was hard to figure out any place, any time.
Tuesday night at the Nax was one of the busier Tuesdays in awhile. A sudden warm spell had people out, business was good, and people wanted to get out. Richard Nax, the proprietor, wouldn’t have it any other way.
Among the patrons, a mix of Esotericists, explorers, academics, and more, there were the regulars. Xaian culture was highly social, and finding a good bar, a good restaurant, or a good place to meet people was highly treasured.
Though, for one group of Tuesday regulars, the one that tended to occur around HuanJen and Rake, there weren’t as many. In fact, there were definitely some people missing, and all of them were female. The other regulars didn’t ask questions. You didn’t ask questions at The Nax - you didn’t ask about the name. You didn’t ask why it was decorated in protective symbols, idols, and other artifacts of various religions. You didn’t ask about the people there. You found out when it was time.
Something minor as a few unattending women was a very minor thing not to ask about.
Lorne Thompson, however, was finding that the women in the group missing was not easily ignored. His boyfriend, Fang Xianfu, was hanging off of him. Lorne wasn’t going to suggest for a moment that Xianfu avoid such behavior, and in fact, he was quite hopeful it would lead to more than just hugging later in the evening. It was, that simply, he was the only person in the group receiving physical affection fom a significant other.
A separate night for the male and female members of his group of friends to experience same-gender bonding hadn’t dealt with the fact he was quite happily bonded to his same gender. Everyone else …
Slate was there without Garnet, staring down at his drink, a silent sculpture with gray fur. HuanJen was quiet, but he had those odd quiet moments - Jade, sometimes, seemed to be an extra voice for him. Dealer Zero, only recently engaged in any form of a relationship, seemed a bit forlorn.
Rake and Brandon seemed fine. Then again Rake was wid
owed, and Brandon had an odd talent to find female friends at a moments notice. Lorne was starting to suspect that his heritage had to include some genetically engineered offworlders, because he should have caught some kind of social disease by now.
And here he was, with Xianfu hanging on him …
“Lorne, honey?” Xianfu asked.
“Sorry, thinking,” Lorne ran a hand through his blond hair. He’d undone his usual ponytail for comfort.
“So … “Rake opened his thick hands, as if imploring the powers to be for something to say. Finally, the Minister found either divine guidance or a source of small talk. With his black robe and birdsnest hair, he looked like a very frustrated mourner caught in a windstorm. “How’s everyone, ah doing?”
“Fine,” Brandon lay back in his chair, a smile splitting his dusky face, “Not having to go to Krafbourne again is nice. I don’t care what anyone says about the old pollution filters, the place still smells funny”
“Business as usual,” Zero said, looking down. His long hair concealed most of his expression, but anyone could tell he was looking at Brandon oddly. He’d done that a great deal during get-togethers, and thought Brandon didn’t notice. Brandon, having boundless good nature, ignored it.
“Same here,” Rake smiled, “Ah, actually, ah quite calm. Got, ah, some new parishioners. Lorne, Slate?”
“Things are calm in my area,” Slate acknowledged pleasantly, thoughtfully, “Actually, I don’t think I have to pay for lunch anymore, the local diner has gotten to know me.”
“Of course,” Lorne smiled archily. The Gendarmes had strict codes, but minor gifts were not forbidden for beat cops like Slate, and were considered part of their traditions, “now, I get to hang around in the Armories and fill out forms.”
“Yes,” Slate acknowledged slowly, “But you get to blow things up.”
“Only by definition,” Lorne grinned. “So, hon, what’s up at the university?”
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