by Daniel Huber
"It's like the nexus point was destroyed. But how?" Krisel muttered as he analyzed the data of what they'd heard, lowered the volume of the garbled voices that continued to feed through the channel. "Have you ever heard of anything more unusual than that?"
Clea broke her gaze from Gannet before she accidentally might have begun answering that question.
CHAPTER 28
"Did you see Clea when she got back today, Riley?"
Quade walked a casual circle around Duplicity as he led the way out of the hangar, being sure that their path allowed them to completely skirt around Clea's ship.
"No… I saw Krisel." The hangar chief who walked with him reached into his pocket to find his hailing beacon. He squeezed a lever at its side and sent out a request for a public transport. "He loaded the docking sequence, passed by and gave me a nod on his way out but I never did see Clea anywhere. Not that I was particularly looking but," he paused, pulling on his coat as they walked out of the bay doors and into the chilly night air. "I generally don't miss an opportunity to look at Clea when she's around." Quade laughed politely but glanced back over his shoulder at the darkened hull of Duplicity as she sat motionless in her berth. No running lights, no glow from standby panels inside… no way for Clea to still be on the ship with life support being shut down completely like that. Where had she gone? Did she even come back at all?
"The SanFear would not speak to you, Quade! It was a dream! Just a dream!" Echo and Mimic had been scolding him inside his mind ever since he'd left P'cadia and he'd been ignoring them as efficiently as he had ignored them for months until just a few days ago. His determination had made it easier. The nightmare had been so clear and so wrenching he'd no choice but to follow his instincts. He had to get home to Bethel. It was a relief to see that it was still here when he'd finally gotten back, though it did lend validation to the emissaries' constant chiding that it was in fact, just another dream and not the premonition that he feared it might have been.
"I'll be here tomorrow afternoon Quade… is there a message you want me to give Clea, if she happens to show up?" The hum of a transport came from the road as it neared the two men.
"No, no," Quade replied nonchalantly. "It's nothing, I'll talk to her tomorrow. Twilight Bloom and all, I'm sure she'll be around." Quade moved away from the subject swiftly. "Anything else going on around here? Anything unusual?"
"You didn’t hear yet?" Riley turned to face Quade, his posture shocked. "You didn't hear about what happened this afternoon?"
Quade held his breath as he steeled himself for the worst, and had to make a conscious effort to keep his voice from quivering as he spoke. "Hear about what?"
"It was nearly a disaster my friend. Be glad you weren't here to see it." Riley paused to pull a tobacco roll out of a leather pouch in his jacket, and Quade was nearly mad with fretful anticipation over what he would say next. Disaster! What kind of disaster?
"Lots of traffic these past few days, more so than usual. Sure, it's always a little crazy roundabout Twilight Bloom, lots of people coming to see it… but this year… really unprecedented! Anyway, you know that flock of morning doves that comes to roost in the loft every year?" Quade couldn't speak, only nodded. "Well, they usually come the week after Twilight Bloom but this year, they showed up early! And as they were flying in to the loft, they passed directly in front of a freighter as it was coming in on manual control. So the pilot swerves to avoid the birds but he lands off center, shears the bottom of his stabilizer element right off, and the vapors travel right up the ventilation shaft where the birds have gone to roost! What a disaster!" Riley shook his head, remembering his near calamity earlier that day. "It took myself and four other guys to get the birds out of there and keep them away while we cleared the air in the shaft. Those fumes would make them dizzy, unable to fly. Could've been a really big catastrophe, ya know?"
Quade stared at his friend for a moment, dumfounded. Was there ever a time when an event as trivial as this would have fallen into the category of 'disaster?'
"Yeah, Riley that would've been a real mess."
The hangar chief slid into the back of the transport and leaned out the door. "Hey Quade… are you hungry? Want to stop by my place for a bit?" Quade smiled at what might've normally been a welcome invitation, but shook his head.
"Thanks for the offer but I have to decline. Busy day tomorrow."
"Oh, right. Sorry I have to miss it this time, but I'll be here, taking care of those last minute arrivals."
"There's always next year, Riley." He exchanged a brief handshake with his friend and turned to go. "G'night."
Quade headed toward the spot where his land transport was waiting, trying not to look like he was walking as fast as he was.
It was a quiet and contemplative place, Bethel's Historical Archive, a place of history and of knowledge, a place that housed antique books and historic data, old accounts of galactic occurrences far and wide. Media as old as hand rendered paintings and two dimensional photographs told the tales of old and tattered volumes of carefully preserved paper held the stories of eras long past. More current audio and visual mediums told of more modern times, were a bit more accurate and perhaps a bit less enchanting. Quade occupied a large table, had two com ports open and an audio headset over his ears feeding him information as he poured over the ancient tomes, protective gloves covering his hands so as not to mar the delicate surface of the aged manuscripts that sat open before him.
He'd been there for nearly four hours now, studying any version of the Legend of the Chosen that he could find, hoping to garner more information than had been available to him as he'd traveled in his ship. Indeed there were more versions of the Legend than he'd previously come across, but the thing that disturbed him about every version that he'd found thus far was the fact that still none of them even remotely mentioned the Avè. And what historic writings and annals that he'd found on the Avè himself never correlated him to the Legend. And always, the information written and recorded spoke of the Avè as a single, seemingly eternal being – but had the Avè not used the term 'Avès?' Had there been more than one? Was there now, currently, more than one? This venture that Quade had hoped would garner answers served to only further his frustrations that had started out that morning at the Central hangar.
The hangar in Sigh City had some four hundred docking bays, at least that many smaller harboring berths and could accommodate a dozen or so ships ascending from its open air ceiling at once. The traffic to and from this central planet was frequent and well managed, meticulously logged and never, ever ran off its schedule. Quade's ship was usually docked in a berth within a special area designated for Sovereignty class vessels, those who were of employ to the Keystone, and it sat not too far from where Clea's much larger ship was housed in its own bay. Duplicity was a unique ship that had lots of custom designs and features, and stood out as one of the more eye catching crafts that one would notice as they walked within the hangar's cavernous walls. But that morning, at that place where Quade had stood just beyond the northwest bay, he felt the feeling that was becoming all too familiar, the feeling of his stomach turning to ice in shock and panic. He had stopped dead in his tracks as he'd walked from where his land transport was parked; stopped as he felt his pulse quicken, as the blood from adrenaline rushed in his ears.
The northwest docking bay where Duplicity usually sat was empty. And there was no sight of Clea anywhere around.
He'd made his way toward the control tower, rushed through the crowd of people, bumping into some of them and muttering apologies. When he looked up to the high tower and stared inside its transparent forward wall, the frustration set in. The hangar chief in charge nodded toward Quade, as he was a familiar presence because of his frequent travels for the Keystone, but it wasn't Riley. The other hangar operators weren't quite as loose with information as Riley was, and Quade knew he wouldn't be able to get any details as to the whereabouts of Clea or her ship from anyone who was there at this early ho
ur. And early it was, for Clea anyway. It was barely past ninth hour, and Clea never started her journeys before late morning. And never, ever did she do a run on the day of Twilight Bloom. Quade turned and scanned the crowd as he walked back toward his transport and caught the sight of Ryder Deluka across the way, looking ever shifty and somewhat nervous. No use in questioning him either; he wouldn't give anything away, especially if his being here had anything to do with Clea. The din of the crowds became too much for Quade to bear and he ran out of the hangar and to his land transport, where he sat in silence for quite a long time.
And he'd ended up at the Historical Archive. If Clea wasn't there to give him the information he needed, to tell him all that she knew of the Legend, all that she knew about anything that could help him, he figured he'd find out for himself. It was an effort that had brought him nothing but dead ends. He glanced up as the clock on the wall chimed three times then he sighed heavily and began to gather up the books that were scattered before him. Too much to do, and no time to do it in. The portrait of the Castle of Sighs that hung in the Archives' foyer seemed somehow ironic to him as he passed it on his way out, knowing that it was his final destination of the day.
Quade settled his transport away from the castle, not quite so far as to make his journey a difficult one, but in a somewhat hidden inglenook just below where the plateau began to slope. As he walked he surveyed the land in a way he'd not surveyed it since many years before; he surveyed it in search of a place to hide.
Memories came to Quade easily as he walked. Memories of a childhood game he used to play with Clea and Trina, a game of strategy called Seek the Thief. Each player would get five of the same item; pinecones, acorns, tangerines or the like and would declare what that item represented. Quade liked to proclaim that his items were straight from whatever myth he'd most recently read, be them the magical dice from Tar-Telleon that were used to grant wishes or the rare and mystic chocolates of Baccus that could be swallowed for strength and agility. Trina liked to claim that her objects were something from the castle, a priceless jeweled crown or weapon of ancient design; things that she was only allowed to handle at that age, under the strict supervision of Aazrio. And with Clea, it was always a production. First she would denounce what Quade had proclaimed as so legendarily valuable, explaining to them all just why actually, that item wasn't valuable at all even though people mistakenly thought that it was. Then she would dedicate her pinecones or acorns as some non-sensical trinket of obscure origin, and would further claim, (with quite a knowing voice) that they had great significance on a far off land, insisting that her objects were more valuable than all the other ones in the game. She would also usually have some story to validate why they were so very important. After the ceremony of declaring their objects, each player would run to hide them as best as they could in ten minutes. The object of the game was to find and steal one opponent's treasures, hence the name, Seek the Thief.
Quade smiled as he thought back to his ten-year-old mind. If he were there now, where would he hide his treasures? Where could he be assured that no one else could find them? Perhaps that would give him an idea of where he could hide himself. Now on the outskirts of the castle's grounds, he could easily see where the Keystone would be standing on the balcony but would have to get to a place where he would not be seen. None of the trees offered easy access, so he skirted along the edge of the parapet wall that flanked the entry garden. The top of this wall walk, he thought as he pulled open the heavy door to the bastion at the far end; people would never think to look up there, and the Keystone would still be well within view. He ran up the spiraling stairs three at a time, imagining what it would be like to do this in the dark. Once on the walk he crouched low, ran hidden beneath the square sawteeth of the parapet and stopped about middle way. He rose to survey the garden, all the people who were setting up the grounds, hanging the lanterns, raking the circular track that the procession would travel. He moved slowly closer to the castle, completely undetected by those on the ground, held his hands to his eyes like the sights on the lararium until he had a perfect view of where the Keystone would be standing. Seek the Thief! he thought, hearing his own juvenile voice inside his mind, they will never find me up here! He marked his place with memory, took another good look of his vantage point for that memory's sake then made his way back down the stone allure and down the spiraling staircase.
CHAPTER 29
The thick carpets that covered the floor in the Keystone's bedchamber silenced Quade's footfalls as he walked hastily throughout the suite of rooms. Everything within seemed to be heavy with the sense of the SanFear, everything that the Keystone had worn or walked upon, brushed against or handled was fresh with the taint. Quade looked over his shoulder as he searched through Aushlin's bureau drawers, but all his items seemed to have been infected with the darkness, as if he'd been systematically going through his own belongings leaving them marred by this intangible force, and those things that he perhaps missed had been inadvertently touched by things that were tainted, thus leaving nothing for Quade to take for his object that was pure. For the infected item he had a myriad of things from which to choose. Virtually everything had the residue covering it, and Quade's quest fast became one of a search for an untainted article. Quade looked at the door, moved across the room to Aushlin's bed, where the heavy sense of the SanFear hung all over the beautiful hand-sewn quilt, the mounds of tasseled pillows, the ornate tapestries that adorned the four posts and that draped across the carved headboard. The items on his bedside table, all tainted, the settee that sat before the fireplace to the right, unpure, the books, the candles, the collection of rare gemstones and geomite, anything small enough to carry was already infected.
"Hide quickly Quade, for danger approaches!" Echo appeared just over his right shoulder and Quade ducked behind the huge fireplace screen which was tall enough to conceal his height and just opaque enough to disguise his presence. He held his breath expecting to see Aazrio or even worse, Aushlin himself, but had to suppress a shocked gasp when the Sentry floated into the room. He looked at Echo accusingly and whispered under his breath, "Why couldn't I sense that thing coming?"
"You cannot sense the presence of the Sentry, Quade." Mimic now hovered next to Echo and they all watched as the inky cloud wafted over the other end of the room. It disappeared behind one of the support pillars in the center of the expansive area then continued toward the turret that housed stairs up to a high tower which jutted up through the middle of the room.
"Why didn't you tell me that sooner?"
"Per usual, Mimic left that part out."
"Per usual?" Mimic kicked Echo angrily and the two began to squeal criticisms at each other.
"Hush!" Quade barely dared to breathe as he watched the Sentry float to the far corner of the room, skulk around the display of Trina's artwork that Aushlin kept in one corner.
"Oh, they cannot see or hear us Quade. It is not we who will give you away."
"Perhaps not but you're making me nervous!" Quade pushed them in the direction of the Sentry. "Now one of you go over there, and tell me when it's clear to run!"
Echo flitted over the bed, hovered around the spire, then turned to scan the room. Her birdlike shape rotated and she glanced back to Mimic, who perched on Quade's shoulder. The Keystone's suite was large and very expansive, and at this distance Quade couldn't see what the Sentry was doing.
"It appears to be lingering around the artwork," Mimic said with some level of interest, obviously interpreting whatever it was that Echo was conveying to her telepathically. Suddenly he could see the inky form raise and continue to drift about the room.
"There's going to be trouble if it goes to the ceiling for an aerial view," he whispered, watching it rise.
"Yes Quade! Run now while you can, keep low and hide beneath the bed!"
He didn't hesitate. Falling to his knees, and unceremoniously knocking Mimic off his shoulder, Quade scampered across the floor and slid under the high f
rame of Aushlin's bed, leaving the tasseled fringe on the quilt shimmying in his wake. He lay motionless, his breathing shallow, and Mimic appeared, still tiny like a bird, ducking under the fringe as she walked toward his face, scowling.
"Not a word!" he whispered harshly, and she pursed her lips but did not speak. Quade peered beneath the bedcover, only able to see the bottom of furniture, the rugs that adorned the floor, the base of the structural pillars that stood central in the rooms. Mimic bent to look out and her head turned, following something that she watched.
"A wise move, Quade. The Sentry is circling the room from the ceiling." Several moments passed before she spoke again, and when she did it was with urgency.
"Go now Quade! Crawl with stealth and speed, and stop only when behind the Keystone's desk!"
He pulled himself from beneath the bed, then made his way across the floor to crawl under Aushlin's desk. The large desk was scattered with papers and books, antique writing instruments and other personal artifacts, most notably of which was an old fashioned scale. Within the measures of the antiquated device were a collection of gemstones that had been gathered from distant lands, given by leaders who would often present them as gifts when the Keystone went to officiate over an important event. Aushlin's collection was separated, Quade knew, by those stones that were valuable but inelegant on one side, and on the opposite side, those which were beautiful but worthless. The scale was perfectly balanced in the center. As he slid beneath the Keystone's desk, Quade plucked one of the grey, unspectacular gemstones and reached into his pocket for the black suede pouch leaving the scale tipped slightly to one side.
"It figures this would be the one I would grab," he muttered as Mimic came to hover before him. When she looked at him quizzically he explained. "This is a Shaman geomite. Priceless, and extremely rare." He bent to peek out from under the desk as he tightened the strings on the pouch and twisted around to tuck it back inside his trousers. "But it looks like I'm not going to have much choice in items the way things are going now." The clasp of his watch caught on the edge of his pocket its elegant design more ornamental than the wrist cron he usually wore, and he tugged to get his hand out of the snug fitting pants.