by Eric Thomson
“And analyzed them quite cogently, from what Gwenneth says.”
“The abbess is too kind. I’m not a particularly astute observer of human nature.”
“You picked up more on reading others since arriving here than you might think. And after learning to focus your talent, you’ll notice even more. Marta says your third eye opened briefly before she left for the Windies. Could you please try again, then reach out and touch my mind?”
“Certainly.” He closed his physical eyes and concentrated. After Friday and a weekend of solitary training, he found the exercise much easier than during Marta’s last session. Katarin opened herself for a few moments, so she could confirm the strength of his touch before closing her mental shields again.
“Impressive. I’ve never taught a sister who showed such speed and skill within days of her first successful attempt.”
“I’ve been practicing.”
“Not on others, I trust.”
Stearn shook his head. “No.”
Katarin held his eyes for a few heartbeats, but knowing the question would inevitably arise, he’d carefully composed himself so he could hide any signs of guilt. Short of invading his mind and asking again, she would never find out. Stearn was aware of the irony that a fully developed sixth sense not only made someone a human lie detector but also a skilled dissembler, and his training reinforced a character trait he’d nurtured his entire adult life.
“You will swear the oath this morning, then open your mind so I can embed the concomitant inhibitions that’ll make sure you won’t invade another’s consciousness short of pressing medical or mental health needs.”
He bowed at the neck. “I am ready.”
Katarin led Stearn through the Hippocratic Oath, including the two Order of the Void specific clauses: I will not peer into another human being’s mind except in the course of my duties as a healer nor will I use my knowledge of another’s mind for any purpose other than healing its owner. She told him to lie on his back, eyes closed, and enter a meditative trance while dropping his mental shields.
Over the next four hours, he could detect her ethereal touch etching new imperatives on his engrams. A wave of strange mental nausea threatened to overcome him several times, and she withdrew almost at once until it passed. The idea someone was changing a part of him, be it ever so tiny, at the very core of what made him Stearn Roget and modifying his behavior rankled each time the nausea struck, but there was no choice. They would not let him leave the abbey again without their safeguards.
A tired voice finally broke through his trance. “You may close your mind.”
His eyes opened on a Katarin hunched over with fatigue. She gave him an encouraging smile, though it seemed as if she’d aged twenty years.
“Don’t worry — conditioning a mind to keep the oath always drains my energy. And yours, as you’ll realize in a few seconds. We are both excused from any further activities today. I suggest we partake in the midday meal and sleep until tomorrow morning.”
As Stearn sat up, a deep weariness overcame him. “I see. Does this mean I can leave the abbey?”
“Not yet. You need a few sessions with me to reinforce certain mental habits. How many depends on how fast you progress. When I’m satisfied you won’t present a risk to yourself or others, I will tell Gwenneth.”
She stood with exaggerated care and held out her hand to steady Stearn as he did the same. His stomach rumbled with hunger, and they grinned at each other.
“I think we’re both in need of sustenance,” she said.
“And sleep.”
“That too.”
Yet a few hours later, Stearn woke in a cold sweat again, just like a few nights earlier, driven by the same indistinct but terrifying nightmare. With the dormitory empty on a workday afternoon, no one heard him, nor did anyone see him use the communal showers, and for that, he was grateful.
**
“Brigid DeCarde saw your head friar and his protege at the Chamber of Commerce meeting last week.” Morane gave Gwenneth a chilled glass of gin and tonic beaded with moisture and took his accustomed seat next to her in the solarium overlooking Vanquish Bay. He raised his drink. “Cheers.”
“Your health.”
They took a sip, then Morane said, “Loxias introduced Stearn to the republic’s biggest movers and shakers—”
“Brigid included. Stearn told me about it.”
“During the meeting, Loxias sat with Gerson Hecht and Severin Downes.”
Gwenneth gave him a half shrug. “Hecht Industries owns most of the abbey’s supply and service providers. As chief administrator, Loxias has no choice but to make nice with Gerson. It keeps our costs under control. After all, we’re a religious, not-for-profit organization desirous of saving every cred we can. We’ve never depended on charity and never will.”
“Commendable, I’m sure. They spent a good chunk of the afternoon debating Chamber of Commerce endorsements in the upcoming senatorial elections. Loxias remained commendably silent, but Hecht and Downes threw their support behind candidates who might support the Order taking a bigger role in government affairs, which would also give Hecht an indirect presence in the corridors of power.”
“I won’t allow it.”
“Short of removing Loxias and giving the chief administrator job to a friar who shares your views, I don’t see what you can do. Hecht and Downes must stay at arm's length from every branch of government because of their extensive business dealings with the republic, notably the starship and orbital base construction projects. An ally with no secular ambitions or business interests who enjoys access to the Estates-General, the cabinet, and legislators can be invaluable. It’ll happen no matter what we wish. Our republic, though it doesn’t suffer from the same flaws as the Ruggero dynasty’s empire, remains far from perfect, but we built it on solid foundations.”
“The republic will be even less perfect if it takes on so much as a vague theocratic flavor. Make no mistake. The Lindisfarne Brethren’s goal is to become an influential part of the Lyonesse government. They won’t come out and say so, but I’m convinced of it. Remember, Lindisfarne was neither a republic nor a democracy. The secular colonists had no voice and no representation.”
“I can’t see that happening here. The Defense Force wouldn’t let it.”
The abbess took another sip of her drink.
“Not to that extent, no. But if Loxias can see that the head of the Order, or better yet, the chief administrator sits at the cabinet table, then he’ll have the next best thing. And it won’t upset the voters or the Defense Force. Find enough pro-Loxias senators to elect a president in favor of such an idea, and it’ll be done.”
Morane gave her a curious glance. “You think?”
“I know. Perhaps it won’t happen this time, but the next for sure.”
“Maybe.” Morane took another sip of his drink. “There’s one thing you must know about Stearn.”
“Yes?”
“Brigid said he spent a lot of time staring at several attendees, her included — studying them no doubt. Brigid’s not sure the others noticed, but she did. You know that eerie sensation someone’s watching you?”
“Sure.”
“She got it in spades, almost as if Stearn was breathing down her neck. Warn him that he should never do it with Brigid again. She still believes the Void Brethren hide unholy mind-meddlers in their ranks.”
“Consider it done.”
**
That Friday, after what Katarin said would be his last conditioning session, Stearn wandered out to the farm complex instead of taking a nap. He was looking for one of the university students so he could test the inhibitions planted in his mind because he felt no different than before.
Stearn found a young woman perched on a bale of hay by the barn, sunning herself while eating a sandwich. He leaned on a fence railing, as if admiring the trio of horses roaming around the paddock. After a few minutes of meditation, Stearn opened his third eye and reached o
ut to brush her mind. He found it not unlike that of the other student — bright, contented, brimming with energy and purpose. So far, so good, but the inhibitions were against meddling, not sampling a mind’s aura. As before, Stearn imagined himself flicking it with his finger. Almost immediately, the contentment vanished, replaced with confusion.
And he was fine. The inhibitions didn’t take, something Katarin failed to notice earlier that day when she checked on her work. His first impulse was finding her and letting her know, but the realization he’d just violated the oath quickly suppressed it. No one told him about the penalties for doing so or what happened with mind-meddlers who couldn’t be constrained and therefore posed a danger. He turned away from the paddock and slowly headed for his workstation, wondering why the conditioning failed and what it meant.
That night, he experienced his third hellish phantasm and woke up more distressed than ever. It was as if the suppressed memories of his time in Antelope were trying to resurface.
Gwenneth, believing the conditioning had taken hold, lifted his confinement to the abbey the next day.
— 39 —
“He doesn’t seem particularly impressive,” Stearn murmured after watching the senatorial candidate for Carhaix South deliver his stump speech.
“But he is in favor of the Order taking a larger role,” Loxias replied in the same tone. “How does the audience feel?”
Stearn opened his mind and let it parse through the mass of feelings it picked up.
“Nothing negative that I can sense, but not much enthusiasm either.”
They were in the Carhaix City Gallery, a high-ceilinged, expansive structure used for public gatherings of every kind. Thousands of voters variously sat on folding chairs or stood along the walls, listening to the man whose aim was unseating the incumbent after only one term. Unfortunately, his charm and affability worked best in one-on-one interactions, not with a crowd.
Stearn reached out and brushed the politician’s mind. Violating the oath was routine by now, something he could do with an ever decreasing expenditure of energy, though if Loxias’ stories about Gwenneth were true, he wondered how effective conditioning really was. Nothing struck him as notable about the man’s inner self. He was simply not that charismatic.
But if Gwenneth secretly helped Morane sell his bizarre Knowledge Vault proposal back in the day, surely Stearn could give the challenger a little boost. Following Loxias into the halls of power after the election was now an overarching goal as he faced the decision on what he would do once his training ended.
Counseling and teaching were out, as was spending decades tending the abbey’s environmental systems until he could succeed Loxias as chief administrator or become the first abbot. Nothing else interested him in the least, and he often regretted taking vows that bound him to the Void for good. Why not use his abilities to advance the Order’s interests if it meant he could find a better purpose?
Stearn visualized himself pouring energy into the candidate’s mind, along with a greater sense of joy and self-confidence. Almost immediately, what was up to now a dull, meat and potatoes speech turned into a barn burner which energized the audience, even after Stearn stopped so he wouldn’t pass out from fatigue.
Later, in the car, Loxias gave him a suspicious stare. “Did you do something in there?”
“You know how Gwenneth supposedly helped Morane sell his scheme to the Estates-General?”
“Sure.”
“I just did something similar and didn’t even cross the line into forbidden mind-meddling.”
Loxias inclined his head in a gesture of respect. “Impressive. How?”
“I shared my energy with him. It can’t really be explained if you’ve never touched another’s inner self.”
The chief administrator let out a pleased chortle.
“You will be abbot one day, my friend. Someone so powerful will rise to the top of the Order and break the sisters’ stranglehold. Then we will remake it and assert our place on Lyonesse.”
“We need not wait until I become abbot. If I can give a boring politician sudden charisma, think how I might influence the next president if enough of those who support the Order sit in the senate.”
“You’re taking quite an interest in the Lindisfarne Brethren’s ultimate goals, aren’t you?”
“If truth be told, I find the sisters increasingly irritating. Their horizons are annoyingly limited even though there’s an entire universe beyond Lyonesse, albeit one that’s still depopulating because of horrors like the Barbarian Plague.” They drove on in silence for a few moments, then Stearn said, “What I did is something any sister with advanced training can do. Send the ones belonging to the Lindisfarne Brethren out there, supporting our preferred candidates, and use them as multipliers.”
“I might just do that, even if it means pushing against the spirit of the Rule.”
**
“How is Seled doing?” Gwenneth asked the moment Marta’s face appeared on her office display.
“She’s learning at an impressive rate. Whatever else Seled once was, she’s highly intelligent.”
“People with personality disorders often are.”
“True. I just ran the last tests, and Seled can shield her mind in both directions. We can begin advanced training, which will confirm my suspicions her third eye is stronger than average. But I need your permission.”
The two women held each other’s gaze while Gwenneth wavered. Seled was the first woman to undergo treatment. The first three men who came through the program had so far shown no behavioral changes. But in Marta’s estimation, their sixth sense was, at best, no more potent than that of an average human and therefore not worth developing any further.
They didn’t know what opening a strong third eye in a mind that once harbored chaotic evil might entail. Yet if Marta stopped now, they never would. The Order had made considerable advances in its understanding of the human mind over the last few years by taking the sort of risks that would make a Summus Abbatissa on Lindisfarne blanch. As a result, the younger sisters trained on Lyonesse were more potent and more capable healers than their predecessors.
“There should be plenty of engrams available for an expanded conditioning process, inhibitions that will kick in if her sociopathic tendencies return,” Marta said. “I’ll do it before attempting to open the inner eye.”
Gwenneth gave her a nod. “Go ahead.”
“Thank you. How’s Stearn?”
The abbess grimaced. “He’s spending entirely too much time with Loxias out in the community now that Katarin took him as far as he should go.”
“I gather he’s still not interested in becoming a healer or counselor. A shame, but we can’t force him. And since a mind like Stearn’s won’t find satisfaction in a regular friar’s work, it’s just as well he explores other outlets now that Katarin conditioned him. Whatever we think of Loxias, he is a smart, capable chief administrator who ensures the abbey’s physical needs are met.”
“Perhaps. But Jonas Morane tells me he’s also becoming adept at backroom politics and cultivating several senatorial candidates in favor of giving the Order a larger say in the republic’s affairs.”
Marta shrugged. “The Order needs a well-connected chief administrator so it can work at peak efficiency. Besides, maybe he’s right, and we should look beyond our walls from time to time.”
A teasing smile lit up Gwenneth’s features. “You’re spending too many hours under the tropical sun, my friend. It’s affecting your perception of reality.”
“Doubtful, but the Windy Isles themselves might give me a fresh perspective on the world, the Order, and our place in the republic. Remember, I was once partnered with a star system governor general. My view of the universe is less parochial.”
“May I infer you’ve gone native along with Mirjam and her flock?”
“Most of our recent advances in mental health originated here. I could do worse than go native. You don’t need me at the abbey these
days anyhow since we’re not taking in as many postulants.”
“Very well. Stay as long as you wish or until Mirjam tires of your presence, whichever comes first, unless I need you here.”
Marta joined her hands beneath her chin and bowed her head. “Thank you.”
**
“And that, Mister President, is the plan. We should adopt it now. If we wait until a reiver wolf pack filled with infected barbarians passes our inner moon, it’ll be too late. Thank you for your attention.” DeCarde stepped away from the rostrum and took her seat at the cabinet table again.
The secretaries shifted their attention to Jonas Morane, waiting for his reaction at hearing the proposal he use his emergency powers and declare martial law so he could impose harsh quarantine measures should a plague ship make it past the Navy.
Vice President Sandino was the first to speak.
“The optics of preparing for such extreme measures strike me as particularly bad, Mister President. Brigid is suggesting you suspend civil liberties and essentially turn the republic into a dictatorship. You know how bloody-minded the citizens of Lyonesse are about their freedoms.”
A grimace briefly twisted Morane’s lips.
“Faced with an existential threat, it’s not just a necessity but an imperative. And existential threats are why I made sure the president’s emergency powers were written into our constitution. We can’t avoid it. The Defense Force and first responders need the unfettered ability to act rapidly and with decisiveness. Most of our fellow citizens will understand, even though they won’t like it. Martial law is for the stubborn or simpleminded minority who won’t let a deadly virus interfere with their lives, never mind the lives they’re risking are those of others. I’m sure the intelligence digests you receive from Brigid’s office discussed folks — mercifully not many — who think the Barbarian Plague is a fabrication by sinister elements in our administration intent on overthrowing the constitution.”
“That’s precisely who I was thinking of when I asked about the optics.”