by Jon Chaisson
Poe nodded as he stopped at the first corner, waiting for a driverless transport to make its calculated stop-and-turn. “I'm sure there would be a reason,” he said. “You’re talking unstable ideas, as much as I hate to say it.”
“Unstable?” Christine said. “If that were true, we’re all screwed. If the Seasons are based on a twenty-five-year cycle of random acts of violence and psychological damage caused by misunderstandings, I'm quitting this planet and moving to Hallera.”
The truck made its slow turn and Poe crossed the street. “You do that and I'm coming with you,” he said. “But I didn't mean unstable as in dangerous. I’m talking free-thinking, no-boundaries think tank stuff like they tried in Nashua Outpost about eighty years ago. Nine brilliant scholars with Mendaihu and Shenaihu backgrounds got together and tried to figure out what it actually was that got the two on each other's nerves.”
“I remember reading that,” she said. “Didn’t get very far, did they?”
“They lasted for ten days. Eleventh day, after a long night of discourse, the ninth scholar, a cho-nyhndah, completely loses it and kills the other eight before turning on himself.”
“Never found a motive, did they?”
“No,” he said. “And all their transcripts are lost or at least well hidden. The cho-nyhndah professor threw everything into incinerators. Left one note. Any guesses?”
Christine let out an uneven breath. “Here lies fate.”
“Right,” he said. “Note how the phrase predates Councillor James' poem by at least fifty or so years. Anyway, years later, the Spiral gang uses it as a motto down in South City. And now someone’s plastering it on the sidewalks with smartpaint everywhere I look. I'm just about to walk over one I found yesterday.”
“They’re all over the place out front,” she said, and stifled a yawn. “Sorry about that...long day.”
Poe checked his watch once more. It read twenty past one. He was heading towards Caren's apartment at this time that night. Now he was going out for smokes and a snack. There was something oddly comforting about that.
“Want me to let you go?” he asked.
“Sure. I've got an early morning tomorrow. Listen, Alec. Think this stuff over and give me a call when you can. I want to figure this out as much as you do.”
He agreed fully and told her so before ending the conversation and disconnecting. Stuffing his phone back in one jacket pocket, he pulled the dwindling pack of cigarettes out of another and lit one up. This was the third one in an hour, which was not a good sign. He would quit soon enough, hopefully before he grew into a full-blown addict. The ARU didn't frown on smoking, as long as it was done outside the office and within the social decrees of the area. But one thing they did not tolerate was a nicotine addict, especially one who made no attempt to recover. Poe didn't want to fall that far.
You'll quit soon enough.
He tossed the cigarette aside and whipped around in the direction of the female voice, pulling his hands up towards his chest, palms out. “Show yourself,” he growled.
The young woman stepped out from beyond the dim shadows and into the cone of the streetlight, hands open at her sides, showing no threat. She was probably in her early twenties, wearing a black, form-fitting body suit with a wide-shouldered, amber colored coat over it. She wore her hair in an intricate triple ponytail with tiny jangling baubles at the ends that made little tik-tik noises when she moved.
Goddess, he thought, catching his breath. An Elder! He immediately dropped his defensive stance and approached the Elder slowly, wondering how long she'd been there. Finding him on Ormand Street this late in the evening, heading to a convenience store? Definitely not a coincidence. Warily, he gave her a quick bow.
“Peace, Love and Light to you, Madame Elder,” he said as evenly as he could.
“Peace, Love and Light to you, edha Poe,” she said, returning the gesture. “I am Elder Crittiqila Nayélha. I wish to speak with you about what you'd just said to emha Gorecki.”
Elders rarely, if ever, wasted time getting someone's attention, and she certainly had his now. She was the sehndayen-ne who had been training Caren in the finer points of the Mendaihu arts for the last two weeks. Caren had only described her as 'brutal but sincere about it.' Instantly his guard went up, and he knew she must have sensed it.
“I wasn't aware you were listening,” he said. “About high level info about Seasons of Embodiment, you mean?”
Elder Nayélha nodded. “There is something we, as a council, would like you, as a cho-nyhndah and as a reality seer, to know beforehand.”
He cleared his throat and bowed again. “I am willing to listen, Elder Nayélha.”
She flashed him a quick grin. “You don't sound very convincing.”
He laughed nervously. “No, I don't suppose I do.”
She nodded down at the ground. “Please properly dispose of that cigarette you just threw, edha Poe, and come with me.”
He did as she asked and tossed it into the nearest incinerator. The Elder chose to stay where she was rather than follow. She merely kept an eye on him as he walked back, either sizing him up or observing his manner. Either way, Poe found it hard not to blush. It wasn't often that an Elder took interest in him.
“Come,” Elder Nayélha said, and reached out a hand. “We must go now.”
“Okay,” he said, grasping it. “But where —”
He blinked, and all was Light.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Proclamation
Nick didn't trust himself. He distrusted Saisshalé even more, and what he’d made him see at Headquarters. It was too unreal, too unbelievable. Saisshalé had offered his side of the story, of why he was here and what he had planned. Despite his misgivings, he'd listened, and now he wished he hadn't.
“So tell me again why we're here so damn late,” he said to Sheila. He leaned against the passenger door of the cruiser as they drove down the empty streets of Nulltech Alley, hardly paying attention to their surroundings. “Are we expecting something to happen?”
“Saisshalé is here, all right,” she grumbled. “I can't sense him, but I know he's here.”
He nodded and slowly turned towards her, knowing well enough not to push further. “Okay,” he said. “I can't say I sense him either, but if it's any consolation, you're not alone.”
“Oh?” she said, glancing at him with a teasing grin. “You talk to him lately?”
“This afternoon,” he said unevenly. He hadn’t told anyone yet, and dreaded the reaction. “After that altercation with Matthew.”
She screeched the car to a halt in the middle of the street. “What!”
“Calm down!” he said, bracing himself against the dash. “He was civil, believe it or not. He showed up when I went out into the hallway for some air. He just wanted to talk.”
“Talk!” she barked. She pulled the car to the side of the road and shifted it into park. “What the hell does he have to talk about, Nick?”
“Fate,” he said quietly. “He's awakening himself, just as edha Usarai woke the One of All Sacred. I don't know how or where or when, but that's what's going to happen, and it's going to happen soon.”
Sheila took an uneasy breath, all the anger quickly dropping away. “Fate, huh?” she sneered. “Well, that’s just dumb fucking luck, isn’t it?”
Nick frowned. “How so?”
“You're the Sleeper,” she said. “And I'm the Messenger. The only reason either of us have gotten this far.”
“Wait,” he said, waving a hand at her. “How do you know about —”
“The Sleeper?” she said, and flashed a weak smile at him. “Deduction, really. You're the only one who hasn't been assigned a role. Caren's the Mendaihu Protector, Poe's the cho-nyhndah Protector. Kai and Ashan are the Watchers. Which makes you and I the people behind the scenes. I'm the Messenger. Matthew said so himself.”
“In the Questioning Room,” he said.
“Exactly,” she said. “And you say that you ran
into Saisshalé soon after. And he called you the Sleeper, didn't he?”
He nodded, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Yes, he did.”
Sheila nodded herself with a lopsided grin that didn't look genuine. “I was afraid of that. Christine told me to keep an eye out for a Sleeper. Called me right about the time you were in sick bay, I think. Told me she managed to finish off her research.” She paused, looked down the street, then into the back mirror, then back at him. “Right. Come on.” She turned off the ignition and climbed out of the car. “This is going to take some explaining.”
Curious but wary, he followed. A cool and unexpected late night breeze gently pushed at him from the hills of West Brandenville, muting any strange noises that would have otherwise been present on a calm night. It was an autumn breeze that signaled a future change he wasn't looking forward to.
It bothered him that they were here, on Dahlajyiné Boulevard, one of the main thoroughfares leading to Nulltech Alley. He hadn't been in this sector at this time of night since he was a beat cop for the BMPD, and was surprised this section of South City could be so utterly devoid of people. Normally, this strip never slept, it was so full of life and commerce. Tonight it was a ghost town. Sheila said nothing for a long while as they headed west up the street, towards the Alley.
“Twenty-five years ago there were two people,” Sheila started, after they'd reached the first intersection. “The Sleeper and the Messenger. The Sleeper is the one to watch everything but not get involved, no matter how hard he or she tries. The Messenger is the one who takes what the Sleeper witnesses, and hands it off to the next person, twenty-five years later.”
“Christine’s research?” Nick asked.
Sheila nodded quickly. “But this was just a small piece of what she found out. Matthew passing on the thankless title of Messenger to me only confirmed it. Which is why we're down here. It's not a coincidence. None of it is.”
He stopped cold, glaring at her. “What the hell is really going on, Sheila?”
“Nick—” she started.
“No!” he spat, waving his arms in front of him. “Just…stop. I’m about fucking sick of this game, Sheila. It’s not a damned game! Sleeper, Messenger…they’re all just labels! Okay, maybe you really do have your role to play, maybe you've even done it in a past life or something, I really don’t care right now. The last thing I need to do is sit around and fucking wait for something bad to happen.”
“But—”
“No, I said!” He exhaled long and hard. “Look…I'm exhausted and pissed off, and I really don't want to have to wait around, waiting for Saisshalé to do whatever the hell he wants to do. He says I can't judge because I don't know how? He's a man with superhuman psychic strengths, but he's still human, and he has no damn right to pigeonhole me!”
Sheila was on the verge of saying something again, but stopped herself. By now she was only looking at him with a sense of pity.
“Don't,” he growled. “Don't look at me that way. It'll only just piss me off even more.”
“You believe what you want to believe,” she said. “I can't stop you.”
“How very fucking noble of you,” he said.
She stared long and hard at him.
“What?”
“You really feel that way, then?”
“Sure, why the hell not?”
Sheila responded with a hard push at his shoulders, much harder and stronger than he’d expected even from her, and it sent him flying backwards. He lost his footing, tripped over the curb, and went sprawling onto the grass. “What the hell!” he cried.
Don't you get angry at me, she growled from deep within. He shuddered and widened his eyes, completely surprised, and a little bit afraid.
“What the—?”
Before he could move away, her hands grabbed at his ARU jacket lifted him back to his feet. She pulled him close, too close. They were staring eye to eye, noses nearly touching. A rage of fire welled behind those eyes, a rage he’d never seen before.
Don't you ever say anything like that again, Nick. You got that?
“I...” he stuttered.
This is not about you. This is about all of us! Saisshalé will appear here, just across this street, and he'll have his own Awakening. You understand? How do I know this? Because I AM the Messenger! And you ARE the Sleeper. You are here to watch it all unfold, regardless of what you think you feel about it. Got that?
“I...” he started again. He placed unsure hands over Sheila's and tried to pry them loose from his lapels. “I...I got it, Sheila,” he said unevenly. “Okay?”
Roughly, she let go and pushed him away. “Goddess, girl,” he exhaled. “Where the hell did that come from?”
“Long story,” she said. “It happened at the Warehouse. I'll tell you later.” She smirked while she adjusted her own jacket. “You can hear me, you idiot,” she said. “You've got the abilities, kid. You just have to learn how to harness them.”
He exhaled again and shook his head. “Yeah, maybe so. Or maybe I just choose not to use them.”
“Freak,” she said.
“You should talk,” he said with a grin. “How do you know about this awakening, anyway?”
She shook her head. “I don't know how, I just do. The Messenger's role, I guess.”
“Well, if we're going to alert anyone about it,” he said. “I suggest we tell Caren and Poe and the others right now.” He turned back, and was surprised to see that their patrol car was nowhere in sight. “Damn! How far did we walk? Two blocks?”
“Eight, it seems,” she said with a frown, looking up at the nearest street sign. “We made it all the way up to Hartford Street. I made sure we were within sight of the car. I thought we were at Carlson.”
“Well, apparently we —”
I am Saisshalé. Listen to me.
Nick stopped dead in his tracks. “Oh. Shit.”
I am the Vengeance of the Trisandi spirits, and I have returned.
They turned and ran back to patrol car.
I am here to release you, my kinléshi. I am here to bring you to a higher level of existence, a level you as Gharné have never known.
The voice was purposely intrusive, and positively inescapable. It was the sound of an angered spirit, released after millennia and hungering for the closest morsel he could latch himself onto. And it was the sound of a calm spirit, fully under control. Nick heard it, as he'd heard Saisshalé's voice in the Questioning Room hallway, and he did not trust it at all. And with this intrusive voice, he was calling out to the thousands of citizens in the Bridgetown area, just as Nehalé had done weeks before.
The other half was about to assert itself.
Please, hear me.
The inner rumbling gave way to a softer, subdued hum within the spirits and minds of the thousands of his affected listeners. His voice commanded their attention, and they had no choice but to comply. Those who tried to ignore or block him were met with a subtle ripple of pain directed squarely within their left ear canal, next to the eardrum. Those who stubbornly resisted despite the anguish found themselves reeling with a sharper, heavier needle-pain at the base of their back, rendering them helpless to move.
Nick and Sheila accepted the full brunt of his words and managed to keep their wits by the time they reached the car. They would accept it, and withhold all judgment until he'd stopped.
I am here to ensure that your spirits awaken to their truest extent as Shenaihu nuhm'ndah. You are lucky, my brothers and sisters, because you have been chosen not only by the great Saisshalé, but also by your esteemed leader, the Dahné Shenaihu nuhm'ndah himself. He has chosen you because you are strong-willed and active. He has chosen you because you are longing to become more than just followers in this new Awakened life. He has chosen you because you understand what it is to be Shenaihu.
You understand because you know its importance.
“You think they can hear this?” Nick said, their car now within sight. It was taking too long, and t
oo much energy, to get back there. What the hell was Saisshalé doing to them…?
“Who?”
“Caren and Poe.”
She was gasping for air, barely able to keep going. “The entire Sprawl can.”
“Damn you, Saisshalé!” Nick said again, much louder.
The Shenaihu have always known their place as faithful servants to the Goddess. They are here as balance against the Mendaihu Gharra, the spirits who mistakenly believe that they are the more blessed. Nothing could be further from the truth! We are as blessed as they are, and we must remember to keep this balance at all costs!
We are the spirits of the heart, spirits of Life. Our ancestral memories remind us that we are first and foremost the descendants of Trisanda. We are the spirits of the ground, the descendants of kiralla. We come from the ground, we are born to it, and we will take root in it. And once the journey spaceward brought the Shenaihu to this planet we call both Gharra and Earth, we chose to take root here. We have been here longer than the Mendaihu, longer than any other human spirits. And we shall reclaim Gharra as its rightful caretaker! The Mendaihu may take hold of the spirits that dwell across this wondrous planet, but it is the Shenaihu who hold the planet itself!
“What the hell is he talking about?” Nick growled. He fumbled for the keys, his brain now a distracted mess, but managed to climb into the car and start it up. He looked up and saw Sheila half a block up, bent over and labored in her breathing. He rolled up alongside her and pushed the passenger door open.
“Hey, you all right?”
“Winded,” she panted, and climbed in. “Let's get the hell out of here.”
Nick wasted no time. He spun the car around and headed back the way they came, sirens blaring, until they reached Bridgetown Parkway.
I have taken great pains to attract the attention of those Mendaihu who may hinder our progress. There was a misguided effort to enslave me, to detain me because of my actions. But I am Saisshalé, Great Warrior, Benevolent Protector, and I am here to say that there are no bars, no containers, no hands that can keep me, for I am One with the Goddess.