by Spoor,Ryk E
“But I don’t even know what they mean.”
Vindatri nodded. “The Arena will not translate them for you, no. You must learn their meaning by example—and then their meaning shall be what you put into them. True, your meaning and mine will likely be very close …but not identical. The same is inevitably true of the words themselves.”
“You mean …I will not pronounce the names exactly the same as you do.”
“Precisely correct, Captain. The Arena is, in some ways, startlingly tolerant of variation. While you could recognize, with the correct context, that the ritual of Shadeweaver and Faith were the same, you must admit that in many ways they sound not at all alike. If you believe the Arena is a great machine and these powers are merely its technology responding to commands, then this makes some sense; some sounds cannot even be replicated by all species, yet all species can be members of Shadeweaver or Faith; the Arena in this case is adjusting its control vocabulary to account for personal and species variation in pronunciation.
“If, on the other hand, you see something more supernatural in the powers, why then it depends more on how you and your spirit resonate with the powers, and in that case how you say it is not so important as whether you can accurately and reliably imagine and direct the shaping of the power into the results you desire.
“In either case, each …magician, priest, or operator, whatever you might call them …develops their own unique articulation of the magic or power—both in the words, and in the precise nature and capabilities of that power’s expression. My attack utilizing the power of electricity, for example, would be clearly related to that of your earlier acquaintance Amas-Garao, but would at the same time be clearly distinct from the precise details of that attack.”
That made a certain amount of sense, and explained why it wasn’t something that could just be taught by reading a book or something similar. “Not all that different from other training I’ve gone through, I guess.” Simgame training might not be, technically, real, but if you played at high “realism” settings, it sure felt real, and the experience was very, very convincing. Astrella’s old Master had certainly put her through similarly arbitrary yet effective training to get her to master control of her inner talents. “So, could you show me your electrical attack? I’d like to see an example of these differences.”
“Certainly.” Vindatri rose to his full height, then looked across the valley. His arm came up and the finger pointed, and he spoke a word that she heard, simultaneously, as “thunder” and as “wirthshem.”
Corona-violet motes formed in the air about the tree he had gestured towards, and seemed to be drawn into the tree as though they were iron filings and the tree a magnet. Blue-white sparks instantly writhed across the surface of the tree and it exploded in a blast of lightning and fire.
Wu Kung leapt to his feet. “That is impressive!”
“A trivial example, no more. Did you recognize the word spoken?”
“It was ‘wirthshem,’ yes?”
“Yes. Very well done.”
“And Amas-Garao would have been using that word as well, I just couldn’t hear it because I hadn’t yet been told it.”
“Precisely. Now…” He studied her intensely. “…you seemed almost on the verge of controlling the powers before, when I was still attempting to place a seal upon you. Shaping and controlling the energies on such an essential level is a much stronger power, one that many Shadeweavers or Initiate Guides do not learn for a long time indeed. Can you recall what you were doing? Do you have an inkling of how you were gaining control?”
She considered briefly whether she should answer, but again, the practicality of the situation was obvious. “It was Astrella. A character I played in a simgame. Your people have or had simgames, right?”
“A simulated environment entertainment? One in which you …assumed a role not your own?” Vindatri’s half-visible face frowned. “Some such entertainments were used by children that I have known, but it was not a major pursuit.”
“Well, it’s a very common thing in our civilization.” Arguing whether it was something for children or not would be pointless.
Vindatri stared at her silently for a few moments, then gave a fluttering motion she guessed was equivalent to a shrug. “Perhaps I should come to understand your people better, in order to better instruct you. Wu Kung, do you play these simgames?”
Wu blinked. “I have not had much need to do so! My life has been too busy.”
Dangerous ground there. Wu lived his life …not in what we’d call our universe. She wasn’t sure how to divert from the subject, though; any action could draw attention to the fact that there was something she wanted hidden or forgotten.
Fortunately, it seemed Vindatri was more interested in a general survey. “What of your other companions? The ones who traveled here in your initial venture?”
“Well …I know DuQuesne’s played some, he mentioned it. Carl definitely played a lot, we even teamed in a couple adventures. Same with Steve, though he was really into more high adventure with less realistic sims. Simon …yes, he played some, he had a sword he replicated based on some he played, so I know he did. Gabrielle played when we were younger, but she got pretty busy with her work for the CSF. I don’t know for sure, but I’d bet that Tom did all sorts of complex adventure games—he was a transcender before we ended up in the Arena. Laila …didn’t know her well enough before to say.”
“Still, that does seem to agree with your thesis. Most of your companions, of—I would presume—diverse interests and responsi-bilities on your mission—participated in these not-real adventure entertainments. Very interesting. Might I inquire as to why it is so?”
Ariane found herself momentarily at a loss. I was never really introspective until I got stuck with this job. Simgames were just stuff everyone did.
But thinking now in a more historical perspective—and with the examples of other species …“I can’t say for sure, but I guess it’s that until we ran into the Arena, we thought we were pretty much at the peak of possible development. Oh, there was still basic science research going on—being done by people who thought that kind of stuff was fun—but no one had to work any more. So if you wanted risk, effort, reward—but not to actually get yourself potentially killed for real—simgames were the best way to go.”
“I see. Yes, that type of …decadence, complacence, comfort, whatever one might call it, is not unknown among other species. Perhaps I have not paid sufficient attention to these things.” Vindatri made a sound translated as a chuckle. “The mysteries of my fellow creatures are as vast as the Arena itself, after all.”
“People are always a mystery,” Wu Kung agreed. “At least until you see them in the Two Mirrors.”
Vindatri glanced towards Wu, and Ariane raised her eyebrow. “Two Mirrors, Wu?”
“It is said that one can distinguish a person’s true self clearly only when that person is seen in two circumstances; the first when he has all that he desires, and power over all he surveys, and the second when he has nothing, and a desperate need for all things. The Mirror of Power and the Mirror of Weakness reflect our true selves for all to see.”
“That’s …pretty deep, actually, Wu,” Ariane said, and saw Vindatri make an approving gesture. “Instead of ‘power corrupts,’ you’re saying ‘power reveals’…”
“…and so does desperation. What you’re willing to do, or not do, when desperate, and what you will do when you’re free to do anything without consequence. What will you excuse in the name of expedience, as Sha Wujing once said, and what will you forget in the face of complete freedom?”
“There is some wisdom in this,” Vindatri said. “However, rarely will one have the chance to, as you put it, see a person reflected in both mirrors.” He surveyed Ariane with a speculative air. “But we have work to do. I will meditate upon what else I might have to learn about you in order to properly instruct you. But now I would see how far your …game has taught you in your proper cour
se.
“Return yourself to the state of mind you were in at the end of your Release, when I was trying to build the Training Seal about your power, when you nearly controlled it. Find that state of mind, that focus, and then see if you can use it along with the knowledge of the meaning of wirthshem.”
“My state of mind was mostly desperation right there,” Ariane said wryly. “But no, I understand.”
She closed her eyes as she had during that burning, ecstatic, terrified moment. Astrella. Astrella with her mentor.
She could feel that moment again, and realized—for a moment disrupting her meditation—that her surroundings were near-perfect for recalling it. For Astrella had been seated on the grass, high in the mountains, lowering clouds above, her teacher speaking…
Reach within, heed the rhythm of your heart, the flow of air inward and outward, Master Macha had said. The water in the clouds falls to the stream, the cup is dipped into the stream, the water passes through us and is returned to the world. The winds of the world pass through the storm and the day and the night and we breathe them in, and return them, too, to the world. Hear the flow of water, know the world’s heart is beating. Feel the caress of the wind, know the Earth is breathing. Your strength comes from the Earth, from its air and water …and its spirit. Reach out. Think of the world. Think of its place within the vastness of the universe. You are a part of that universe.
She could picture Astrella’s world as Astrella had, first envisioning the hillside on which she sat, then rising above, to see vast mountains, rivers, sensing somehow their flow, seeing the winds and storms gathering as her spirit touched them.
You are part of the universe, and it is a part of you. Your soul is as infinite as Creation, and you encompass each other. Feel your soul as the cosmos, the cosmos as your soul, and if you can but sense it, make that spark of Creation live within you, then you will know that you can do anything. Then, and only then, will you be able to raise your hand and spirit and change the very shape of the world to your will.
Ariane saw Astrella’s entire world, a blue-green-brown-white globe, below, and felt herself trembling on the edge of understanding.
But …she thought. But …I am Ariane, not Astrella, and I am not seated on her world. I am in the Arena.
With that thought she suddenly remembered, recalled that moment of Awakening—the transcendent, terrifying instant when she SAW the universes, both of them, and something perhaps even beyond both the normal continuum and the Arena. She looked at that moment, looked at it fully, for the first time since it had happened, and knew it was utterly beyond her ability to understand.
And yet…
And yet…
She thought a part of her did understand, because she found herself seeing Earth’s Sphere, as though she were rising above it, past the blazing Luminaire, seeing vague, distant dots that might have been ships or creatures, storms the size of the Solar System, other Spheres, a vision expanding at frightening, exhilarating speed to encompass more, an entire Spherepool, an artificial galaxy turning with infinite majesty within a space greater than a human mind should even contemplate, and yet she now grasped the vision, forced herself to view it, to rise farther, higher, seeing a dozen, a hundred, a thousand, millions, billions of Spherepools in the dream-cloud lit expanses of the Arena.
For one instant she even thought she passed beyond the Arena, and there was a light and a presence that watched her with apprehension and hope …and other Presences, far, far beyond, filled with malice and hunger.
But at the same time she suddenly felt herself, her heart, her breath, and somehow within also the motions and power of the Arena, as though the awful grandeur of the construct dwelt within her very soul, and she opened her eyes, raising her hand, pointing across the valley. “Wirthshem,” she said.
Blue-white electricity spat crackling from her hand, tingling like the electric-eel implants she was already familiar with, and with a peal of earshattering thunder a bolt of lightning split a massive tree like an axe wielded by a giant.
Wu and Vindatri leapt back, and she vaguely heard a disbelieving, alien curse from beneath the hood. The echoes resounded through the mountains and Ariane lowered her hand, feeling a grin spreading across her face.
Vindatri turned slowly to look at her. “A …spectacular success, Captain Austin.” His translated voice was filled with surprise. “I had expected—at most—a flicker of power.”
“I expected more,” Wu Kung said. “You said she was already starting to control the power before you sealed it. Ariane is special.”
“So it would seem,” Vindatri said, speculation replacing startlement in his voice. “Perhaps you will learn enough in time, Captain. Certainly it seems you already know—or sense—a great deal that I had not expected.”
His half-seen eyes glinted, and Ariane was suddenly seized with the conviction that he had seen far more than just a lightning bolt. “Tell me, Captain Austin, as much as you can, exactly what you thought, what you saw, in your meditations. I am curious as to how you called this forth.”
She hesitated. Not sure I want to tell him everything. There’s possible hints there of other things that—
“Come, Captain. Understanding how you reached this point will be invaluable in knowing how quickly and well I can bring you along the rest of the path to the knowledge you seek.” His voice was warm, reasonable, echoing in her head with a strange urgency. “Surely you want to make progress as quickly as possible. Come, tell me everything.”
She blinked. Of course I should tell him. How else will he know what it is that works. Why was I hesitating? She didn’t dwell on the last question; it wasn’t important any more. “You’re right. If I don’t work with you, this will never get done. I was remembering what I had done before, and…”
She was vaguely aware of Sun Wu Kung’s narrow gaze, but as she spoke and Vindatri continued his gentle yet insistent questioning, he, too, seemed to relax…
Chapter 37
“Only three hundred?” Simon found he could not keep dismay from his voice, and heard it echoed by the others in the conference room.
Relgof spread his hands wide in apology. “Simon, Laila, Carl …my friends, I truly wish it was more. But you understand, the Arena does not allow us to move military personnel and materiel through Nexus Arena, and it is, of course, quite cognizant of the fact that as your allies we are now involved in your war, and our ship movements will not be innocent. Thus we have had to very rapidly research connections between your other Sky Gates and those of our various Spheres.”
He spread his hands again. “Unfortunately, given the time constraints before the confrontation, three hundred warships—perhaps three hundred and fifty—are as many as we will be able to move to your Sphere in that time. None of our other resources will be able to reach appropriate Sky Gate connections on such short notice. Had we even a month or two longer, it would be vastly different, but as it is …this is what we offer.”
Simon closed his eyes and forced disappointment away. “Never mind, Rel. Three hundred is still more than ten times as many as we have currently.” He wondered how many they might be able to “upgun” with primaries.
“Perhaps—perhaps, I say—this may not be as small a force as you believe,” Oscar Naraj said.
“What do you mean, Oscar?” Oasis asked.
“I mean that what is important about this confrontation is that we convince the Molothos that this war is one they cannot afford, yes? And while three hundred vessels is, undoubtedly, paltry opposition to their forces of four thousand and more, it is the nature of those three hundred, I believe, which can give our adversaries pause. If they see that these are Analytic vessels, and not merely vessels of the Analytic but crewed and operated by the Analytic, then they will know that in pressing the attack they will be irrevocably declaring war upon another Great Faction—and, if I understand the relations between Factions aright, yours is one of the Great Factions they have actually been at some pains to not of
fend, yes?”
Relgof flip-flopped his filter-beard in assent. “I see your point, Oscar! Indeed, the Analytic has generally been less ill-used by the Molothos—or other hostile factions—as we are seekers, and suppliers, of knowledge, and thus both less directly dangerous and more useful than others. The Molothos are closest to conflict with the Blessed To Serve, for rather obvious reasons, and the Vengeance, for other reasons. Yes, they will certainly want to weigh carefully the potential cost of initiating war with the Analytic!”
“If that is the case,” Laila said, with hope animating her features, “perhaps we can avoid this entire conflict by notifying the Molothos of our alliance.”
A sudden flare of elation and optimism was crushed when Simon saw Relgof gesture a negation. “I am afraid not, my friends. There will be no communication between the Molothos Embassy and the fleet now en route; no means of communication exists that can reach a vessel in the Deeps, unless it be something of the powers of the Shadeweavers or Faith. They will not learn of this until they face our combined fleets—and we will not arrive at your system until very, very nearly the time the conflict begins.”
Carl sighed. “That sucks. Okay, I guess it’s time we asked your opinion: should we just drop it? Back our ships out, hide ’em elsewhere, evacuate the surface, let ’em take the Upper Sphere?”
“Absolutely not,” Relgof said without hesitation. “Even if you have additional Spheres I am not aware of, and thus would not be entirely cut off from Arenaspace itself, you cannot afford to in essence yield your upper Home Sphere to the Molothos. If they establish and secure that area—even for a matter of a few days or weeks—they will first be able to assemble a much larger force to hold your Upper Sphere. Moreover, they will then be able to assemble a truly immense force to transition a relatively short distance from your home system.”
“When you say ‘truly immense,’” Laila said, “just how ‘immense’ are you talking?”