by Jon Chaisson
Sensing his bitterness, the Elder-kiralla calmed herself down and shifted into a sitting position, hind haunches pulled up to sides and forearms resting on the ground before her. She lowered her snout to the ground, not quite touching, but low enough that her eyes were below his line of sight. She was truly repentant.
“I do apologize, eicho, for any harm I have brought upon you, and shall do what I can to heal any injuries,” she said quietly. “I bless you with Peace, Love and Light with the hopes that I have not turned you against the Mendaihu because of my actions.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. Turning against the Mendaihu? What a preposterous thought! He would rather kill himself than turn against Denni. There were just some things he would never do, even under duress. “It would take far more than that, Elder,” he said. “But you could me what the hell is going on, what the kiralla have to do with Trisanda, and why I'm way the hell out here on this backwater planet right now?”
Crittiqila lifted cocked her serpent head at him. “How do you know where we are?”
“Why else would they call this the Goddess’ Hall of Bann Dassah? You've got a few mini-universes going on in this apartment, Elder Nayélha. I can't think of any other reason for these hallways to be here.”
Crittiqila nodded. “You are indeed quite perceptive. Now, I believe you are ready.”
A mix of both annoyance and intrigue hit Poe. “Ready for what?”
“Why, for your unveiling, Alix Eiyashné.”
Unveil...? He opened his mouth, but lost his words to silence.
He wondered how she’d known his True name, the one his birth parents had passed onto his adoptive parents in veils of secrecy. And now she was talking about pulling those veils away! With one simple connection — his True Name — she had found the one weakness in all the protective walls he'd put up over the years. She wasn't threatening to use that weakness against him, though. She was using its existence and forcing him to decide how to knock those walls down. Only one person in his life had ever been able to do that to him, and he trusted her more than anything else in the universes. But these were walls even Caren wouldn't knock down. In the end, he would have to decide, and he would be the one to do it.
“It's well past the time,” the Elder said. “You have nothing to hide from, edha Eiyashné. Nothing is harming you. Not here, not now. And once you return to Gharra, I promise, you will be unbeatable. It's the persistence of your memories that keeps holding you back. You're holding onto a past that's no longer there. It only remains in your mind and in your heart. You can remember them all you like, Alix, but do not dwell on them.”
She clacked a single black talon on the hard floor over and over, waiting impatiently. She had remained in her kiralla form and wasn't about to revert back. The room had become brighter, lit from above by a large ornate chandelier, and Crittiqila’s shiny kiralla scale took on a gorgeous iridescence of sapphire and coral. She tilted her head from side to side with her muzzle down, seeming to study him as well.
“Okay,” he said finally. “Say I take down these walls.”
She twitched her tail, a quick flip that gave no noise. “Say you do,” she said. “Your True self emerges, and you do not suffer any side effects. No trauma, no physical harm done.”
“What are you expecting to see?” he asked.
She let out a short laugh. “Far be it from me to influence your image, Alix. It's up to you.”
“Yes,” he smiled. “But you've already influenced it by showing your True image.”
“This is true,” she said, amused. “But you are also kiralla. Did you not say you encountered a sense of familiarity here?”
“I did.”
She grinned, flashing a set of razor sharp fangs. “You are from here, my sehnadha. You are one of the kiralla. As were your parents, as were theirs, and so on. That is your deep, dark secret that you've been hiding all these years.”
Poe frowned. “That can't be right.”
The Elder began to laugh again. “Stop lying to yourself! It is the truth!”
But he held firm. He wasn't about to lose any shred of humanity, any part of his individuality by admitting he'd been a kiralla all this time. He wouldn't accept any of these truths simply by suggestion.
“You're as stubborn as they were,” Elder Nayélha said with a twitch of a tail and a sigh of disdain. “If not more so.”
“Who?” he asked.
“Your parents,” she retorted. “It took me ten years to convince them.”
“What?” he gasped. “Wait a minute. You're older than I am?”
“Spiritually,” she said, flashing her lethal grin again. “Truth be told, I'm an infant kiralla spirit, around eighty-five thousand Earth years. Most kiralla souls are positively ancient. Older than most Trisandi, as a matter of fact.”
Poe blinked at her. “I knew of their — of our existence, but I didn’t know…”
With a resigned bowing of her head nearly down to the floor, she gave with a great rumbling sigh. “Oh, dear. This is going to take some time,” she grumbled. She shifted on all four legs, arched her back in a long and satisfying stretch, and laid herself out into a Sphinx-like pose, sharp-clawed hands folded one atop the other. She tapped another talon on the floor. “Sit, Alix. Let me tell you about your heritage.”
Poe studied her again. He had been quashing his curiosity for a while now, trying as hard as hell to remain aloof. It had worked for him in the past, but it seemed this time he was dealing with an Elder who had much more patience than he could ever muster. It didn't look like she was going to let them return to Earth until she had what she had brought him there for. He sat on the floor, crossed his legs, and waited for her to begin.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Sunrise
The Councillor unlocked the door and held it open for Caren. She bowed with a little bit of uncertainty, and walked into the oval shaped foyer. Two staircases followed the curve of the side walls and met at the far end of the room at a mezzanine entryway. Four matching plush chairs were placed in between the four doorways, all the same calming beige as the walls, which were sparsely yet methodically ordained with a number of paintings and vidart. Two double doors faced each other on either side of the room, recessed into the wall between the sofas. The main floor hallway loomed ahead. Whoever owned this mansion was certainly well off.
The only thing out of place was the metal security arch she stood behind.
“I'm armed,” she said. “Will this...?”
“It only reads and puts you in the database,” he said. “Not to worry, the only people who have data access are myself and the owners of the house.”
Somehow that didn't make her feel any better, but she relented and passed through. Councillor James followed her, pulling off his overcoat. He hung it on a brass coat rack she'd missed seeing before, and held his hand out for hers. He paused as he felt its odd weight when she handed it to him, and smiled. “You take nothing for granted,” he said. “I admire that.”
“Yeah, well...” she started, then thought better. “I get that from my parents.”
“Anyone I might know?”
“They were ARU as well,” she said, holding back her anger.
He caught the tone of her voice and bowed his head. “Oh! Nyhnd’aladh, edha Johnson. That was an extremely rude question.”
“Whatever,” she grumbled, waving off his apology. “Look, I'm working on two hours sleep and a hell of a lot of stress here, so I might snap at you. Let's just cut the familiarities, shall we? And please, call me Caren.”
“Very well, then,” he smiled, and his shoulders visibly dropped. “I hate talking nice all the time anyway. Annoying as hell. Call me Kell.”
It must have been her exhaustion, but his words caused her to break out in laughter. “Oh! Heh. I'm sorry, sir.”
“Quite all right,” he said. “What did I do this time?”
She giggled again. Goddess, what was wrong with her? “I’m sorry, sir, you’ll have to forgive me. My part
ner is a huge fan of your writings. He’s been reading you a lot lately. I’m dearly looking forward to seeing him tomorrow so I can say 'Oh, by the way, I talked to Kell yesterday, rode my bike with him out to Sachers Island, hung out at his mansion.’”
“I’m sure I'll be meeting him soon enough,” he said warmly. “Come, let’s head to the war room, where we can speak freely.”
“War room?”
“The owners call it that. It's really a large library where they like to meet up. It's right through here.” He lifted up a hand and led her through the right side door, which led down a short hallway to a room at the end. He swung its doors open wide and tapped the lightpad on. Caren spun around slowly, taking it all in. It was quite spacious, taking up this entire corner of the mansion wing. Windows lined three of the four hardwood walls, their curtains tied back. There were numerous wide mahogany bookshelves. Some of them held archive data crystals and cached vidmats, but most of them still held books, all dusty and worn. The couches themselves were antiques, dark violet covers hand-stitched with gold leaves and vines. She was almost afraid to sit on them.
Kell led her to one of the couches close to the far end of the room, near the windows overlooking the river. The city awaited the slow approach of dawn, mist lifting up and covering the Sprawl in a surreal, ethereal yellow glow. It was quietly beautiful.
“The calm before the storm,” she said.
“'Come and rejoice, for a new sun is about to rise,'“ he said. “One of my own, that. Saisshalé is experiencing his own awakening, and he's gathering his flock now. But you knew that was coming, didn't you? It was inevitable. The Mendaihu stepped up their presence, so the Shenaihu are about to do the same.”
“The Mendaihu stepped up their presence because of Nehalé Usarai's Awakening ritual,” she countered. “They wanted to make sure all was okay. It wasn't until the hrrah-sehdhyn attack that— ”
“The Shenaihu merely balanced it out,” he finished. “If the Mendaihu had left it the hrrah-sehdhyn, it all would have been rectified within a week or so. The so-called ‘Season of Embodiment’ we're about to face would have been less of an Armageddon and more of a simple misunderstanding. Not that I'm blaming anyone, mind you. I'm just an observer.”
“A misunderstanding?” Caren glared at him. “No one died as a direct result of edha Usarai's spiritual actions.”
But Kell was quick to answer. “True,” he said. “But his actions awakened the One of All Sacred. Which means it was only a matter of time until Saisshalé would arise, through Shenaihu means. Everything affects everything else. There were certain things, certain events set into motion that could not be stopped. If the Mendaihu want to reincarnate a deity, the Shenaihu do so in kind. If the Mendaihu wish to awaken everyone on this beloved planet, then the Shenaihu have no choice but to do the same, preferably while the awakened are still malleable. Do you understand?”
She frowned deeply, but nodded. “All too well.”
He smiled warmly and shook his head. “Nothing to be afraid of, emha Shalei.”
That name surprised her enough that she reacted before she could hide it. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it again, shifted in her seat, and looked away, her face burning.
“You're afraid,” he said quietly. “But you won't fully admit it. You think that you're about to enter into a war with no recognizable end, and you feel completely unprepared for it. Am I right?”
She nodded.
“Well...I'm here to tell you that you are ready. All of you. All of the Mendaihu at Moulding Warehouse, and those who’ve returned home. You're all ready, because you've been given the keys to your past. You have access to past memories. Even you, with your one meeting with Elder Nayélha.”
“How do you know that?”
He smiled again. “Elder Nayélha is one of my closest friends. She was very vocal about you, I should add. Thought you were one of the best she's trained.”
Despite her blushing, she frowned and shook her head. “What the hell did I learn from her? A few fancy energy tricks and a boost in my self-esteem! I need to know more.”
He held up his hand quickly and shook his head. “No, Karinna...you don't.” He gestured towards her chest and pointed. “It's all in there. In your spirit's memories. All you need do is access them.”
“But—”
“Enough,” he said suddenly, shaking his head. “We've gotten off the subject. What happens next, out there in our city, is completely up to those who have taken their place in the playing field.”
“You and that damn 'playing field' analogy!” she snapped. “This is no damn game, Kelley! People are going to die, and no Mendaihu wants that on their conscience!”
Instead of answering, he ducked his head low, frowning deeply.
“What?” she said.
He let out an uneven breath and nodded. “None of the Mendaihu you've known have actually killed before, have they?”
“Not unless it was in self-defense,” she said, knowing how weak that sounded. She knew what he'd meant. “I'm afraid I was too young to remember most of the last Season.”
“Once more with the memories,” he said. “Let me tell you, then: you are right, that no Mendaihu wants a kill on their conscience, and neither does a Shenaihu. Even the self-defense kills are a blow to the spirit. I should know. I was there twenty-five years ago, down at the Mirades Tower.”
“You were there?” she blurted, mouth agape. “I'd thought you too young for that.”
“I was a bit young,” he said sheepishly. “A little kid of twelve, and already a Mendaihu brat.”
“Goddess...” she whispered.
“And yes, it was traumatic. I was surrounded by at least eighty soulhealers when I stood at the west facade. It only came back to me later, when I started my run for Council. So…what was it like to kill Shenaihu in self-defense? Awful. Fucking horrific. When you're fighting, as a Mendaihu you don't just sense the fear behind their eyes. You feel the spirit's fear. It's...” He stopped, grasping for words. It seemed the subject was causing him extreme spiritual discomfort. “Imagine a moment in battle, the chances of a fatal blow are high, and just for that one moment...your spirit understands that. And for that one same moment, you feel detached from your own spirit. You feel resignation. No, worse than that. You feel a simple logic in your body that admits defeat and peacefully awaits execution. Everything stops, and your spirit stands, waiting to leave. Time ceases to exist...”
“'...and we are all left in space,'“ Caren quoted. “'Here lies fate, my friend. Here lies fate.'“ She shuddered without meaning to, the ubiquitous phrase taking on new meaning. “That was about the battle at the Tower, wasn't it? 'The Persistence of Memories.' It's what you've been talking about all this time. Goddess...”
Another, unspoken thought crossed her mind: Madeleine was right.
“Well done, emha Shalei,” he said with a tired grin. “I wrote that because I wanted others to remember what that pain and fear was like. The poem's always been taken out of context, of course. Especially over the last few weeks.”
“I don't think so,” she said. “I think the context comes across, regardless. It's the kiralla that have been spraying that phrase all around the city recently. They were here months before it all went down. They know what's about to happen, Kell. They're the ones with all the memories. They remember what happened before. But why did they not tell anyone, save us all some grief?”
“A very good question,” Kelley said, his grin pulling into a wide smile. “That's what the sehndayen-ne are for, aren't they? I gather Elder Nayélha would have given that knowledge to you.”
“She didn't tell me a damn thing.”
He chuckled. “We can't expect to have our hand held all the time.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He sighed, his humor seeming to melt away as he turned and looked out the windows. “It means that we're growing tired of waiting, Karinna. It's about time you Gharné remembered who you really are
.” He stood up and walked to the window, hands behind his back and his shoulders tight. “Your kind are our offspring. Your kind, the Trisandi, are the offspring of the kiralla. And the chain keeps going down, spurring and evolving, down to Mannaki, Gharné, and possibly beyond, when you decide to venture further than the CNF-sanctioned worlds. There's a vast universe out there, and it's about time the lot of you truly understood that.”
“You’re kiralla,” she whispered.
“Yes, I am.”
She stood, and bravely moved to stand next to him at the window. The sun was peeking out over the corner of Bridgetown, the quiet end of South City, rising in the space between the pillars of the I-91 bridge and reflecting off the Nulltech Alley towers. It gave the false impression that South City had been set afire, and it chilled her. But what scared her more was the sudden feeling that if it had actually been on fire...it wouldn't have mattered. In the grander scheme, the grander Goddess of the universes...it was just another event in a long, unending history. A reaction that was utterly so unlike her. And she knew that her parents would have felt the same thing.
We are all kiralla, she thought.
“I want to understand,” she said quietly.
He looked down on her. It was the teacher, the sehndayen-ne summing up a potential pupil. He nodded twice slowly, a soft smile crossing his face once more.
“Good,” he said. “You shall.”
She bowed her head slightly. “Thank you.”
They both turned back and watched the sun rise over the city. Peaceful, elegant and majestic. He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Do not thank me, emha. Thank yourself. You've given yourself permission to explore your own spirit without holding back. I can sense you, Karinna. You have amazing potential. You do not need those emotional walls anymore. You have the strength within. It's up to you to channel it.”
“I've tried to give myself that affirmation since the One...since Denysia awakened,” she said. “It's hard, but I am committed.”
“Strength,” he whispered, and extended his arm, crossing it over her shoulders. She felt trust with him, and let his arm stay there. “...and Spirit,” he added.