The Shadow of the Progenitors: A Transforms Novel (The Cause Book 1)

by Randall Farmer

  Shadow nodded, a gleam coming to his eyes. “She values information the most. Research data often fetches the highest price. However, I do not believe Arm Keaton has ever been offered Crow research notes.”

  “I do believe you’re correct,” Gilgamesh said, echoing Shadow’s formality. “This actually might work.”

  Hoskins slapped his knees. “Excellent. I’ll be out of here tonight. Should I take any backup from the Barony? Or should I go alone on this?” Gilgamesh looked at him sideways and wondered if Hoskins thought he would be able to survive bracing Keaton in her lair. Keaton had killed many Chimeras over the years.

  Shadow smiled slightly. “Oh, I think Gilgamesh will go with you.”

  “What?” Gilgamesh said. Crap.

  “It’s time for you to officially become a Guru.” As in: you’ve nearly plateaued out on everything I can teach you. “Consider this your proving quest. I’m assigning you responsibility to fix Sinclair. I’ll give you a box of notes to offer Keaton, and you can travel cross-country. On the way, you might see if you can find out some information about our enemies, look for vulnerabilities, contact a few old friends, and spread the word about what Chevalier did to Sinclair, that sort of thing. Renew some of your acquaintances.” Shadow appeared to be getting, well, excited over this. Strange. Normally, he was phlegmatic. This must be the old conflict. Although Gilgamesh had no real idea what Shadow was doing, he was moving important pieces around in his mental chess game against Chevalier and Chevalier’s supporters.

  “Now wait a minute, Master Shadow,” Hoskins growled.

  “I assume that you wish to go too, your grace? Since Sinclair will need to travel with Gilgamesh, he’ll need you to guard him. Also, Gilgamesh would do well with a guard also.”

  “Master Shadow, I’ll guard Master Sinclair wherever he goes, but I can’t go without a Crow Master for that long. This could take weeks.”

  “Yes, you’re correct about the problem, but it’s a problem with a solution. Gilgamesh, it’s time for you to learn a new set of skills. I should be able to teach you the basics you need to support Duke Hoskins in a day or two.”

  “Excuse me, Master Shadow. You can’t be serious, can you?” Hoskins said. Gilgamesh was too shocked to speak.

  “The basics aren’t that difficult and don’t delve too deeply into symbolic dross manipulation. He’ll be able to support you during a draw and minimize the effects if you change shape. That should be good enough to keep you out of trouble.”

  “Master Sinclair was in training with Master Occum for a year,” Hoskins said

  “Master Sinclair learned a lot more than the minimum. You won’t be taking any commoners along with you, or trainee Nobles, and there is where the difficulties of being a Crow Master lie.”

  “What about the household?”

  “Occum and I will take care of them. I think it’s about time Occum considered moving up in the world. As we all agreed, we’re in a fight, and we need to attack, not defend. We’ll certainly do better with two Gurus, rather than just one.”

  “You’re going to train Occum to be a Guru?” Gilgamesh asked. What was Shadow doing? It was as if he had discarded all his timeworn cautions.

  “Yes, I am, and because of Occum’s decade of experience, I doubt the process will take long. If you need to get hold of me, you can contact me there. Good luck on the road. Send me regular letters.”

  “I’m not going accept some untrained bigot as my Master Crow,” Hoskins said. His heavy breathing became a snarl.

  “Oh, yes you are,” Shadow said. “Consider this as atonement for the state of your Crow Master.”

  ---

  “We’re going the wrong direction, Master Gilgamesh,” Hoskins said. City driving was always bad, Manhattan was worse, and the fact that Gilgamesh had to drive Sumeria through Manhattan with a backslid Noble sitting next to him was conclusive evidence of the sadistic nature of the universe. Sumeria was his RV, his traveling home, and a gift from the Commander. The RV wasn’t exactly maneuverable, though. He had just manhandled the vehicle safely onto I-80, though in the process he sweated out his shirt, when Hoskins spoke.

  Gilgamesh jumped. “What?” His voice was nearly a shriek.

  “We need to go south before we can go west, Master Gilgamesh. If we go straight west from here, we’ll likely cross into Enkidu’s territory. Not a good idea.”

  Gilgamesh risked a glance away from the freeway and over at Hoskins. Except for his size, he looked like a perfectly normal human being in blue slacks and a golf shirt. He wasn’t in the least bothered by the city traffic.

  “What do you know about Enkidu’s territory?” According to the Arms and Focuses, the Hunters roamed the mountains of Washington, Idaho and Montana.

  “Some days, I can see Enkidu’s territory in the cloud bottoms at sunset. I don’t know exactly where his territory is in map terms, but we should stay away from Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Utah and Colorado. At least.”

  Well well well. His old nemesis was expanding his ‘empire’ yet again. Tiamat would be beside herself over this revolting development. Gilgamesh was none too happy, himself. “Damn it, you could have told me before I got us onto I-80!”

  “You didn’t ask my advice, Master Gilgamesh, and I would not distract you while you’re driving in New York. But you’re taking us the wrong direction.”

  “Fine. Give me the map.”

  Hoskins silently handed him the map. Gilgamesh attempted to unfold the map with shaking hands, and the map did what maps do and there was map all over everywhere, none of it showing the right place. The RV veered to the right and drifted onto the shoulder as Gilgamesh coped with the map. Hoskins grabbed the wheel and righted it before they could plow through the abandoned convertible ahead of them.

  “If you would let me drive, you wouldn’t have to stress yourself like this, Master Gilgamesh.”

  “Dammit!” No way would he let a Beast drive his treasured Sumeria. The RV wouldn’t last a day. He took the wheel back, and the map fell to the floor.

  “We might travel faster, also. I would, for instance, be able to drive up to the actual speed limit. Why don’t you continue west on I-80, and then pick up I-81 south, Master Gilgamesh.”

  “Damn it, you’re being irritating on purpose. And quit calling me Master Gilgamesh.”

  “It’s the Rule, Master Gilgamesh. It’s also the Rule that you treat me with equivalent respect.”

  “Fuck the rules.” Gilgamesh kicked the map out of the way and concentrated on driving. They were out of New York, but northern New Jersey wasn’t rural countryside. Too many cars, all going too fast. Right beside him, a giant eighteen-wheeler passed him with only inches to spare, and Sumeria rattled with the backdraft. Gilgamesh stepped on the gas and eased Sumeria up to the speed limit.

  Hoskins didn’t say a word and Gilgamesh glanced over to him. He frowned.

  “You would like to dispense with the Rules, Master Gilgamesh?” Hoskins asked, suddenly formal. “I wouldn’t consider such a course of action wise, but will do so if you insist. There is a Rule, for instance, about Nobles not threatening the Master Crow of the household. Another one states a Noble will not do harm to the Master Crow of the household. Ordinarily, those Rules are merely a courtesy, as the Master Crow is quite capable of defending himself against the Nobles of his own household, but I did not notice Master Shadow teaching you any of those skills when he taught you the basics yesterday.”

  Gilgamesh’s heart leapt up into his throat. “Are you making a threat?” Gilgamesh asked.

  “Of course not, Master Gilgamesh. Threats are against the Rules. Of course, if we dispense with the Rules…”

  “All right, fine. We’ll follow the Rules.”

  “Excellent. I think you’ll find them wise. Now, the Rules do have something to say about courtesy. I’ll address you respectfully as Master Gilgamesh. The appropriate honorific for me is ‘your grace’.”

  “Your grace,” Gilgamesh said, flat.

  “
Why thank you, Master Gilgamesh. This is much more pleasant. Now if you will listen, I’ll tell you the Rules. First, the Rules of Noble behavior at home…”

  ---

  They entered the first suburbs of Atlanta at six-thirty the next night, after two very long days. Gilgamesh had finally broken down and let Hoskins drive. The Duke, much to Gilgamesh’s aggravation, turned out to be an excellent driver. Hoskins managed about ten hours of driving each day before he grew absolutely buggy from being cooped up in the small space, and they had to stop. In the evening they camped, where Hoskins could prowl the night while Gilgamesh practiced his dross constructs and looked after Sinclair.

  Sinclair remained unconscious. Gilgamesh had hoped he would wake up before they reached Atlanta, to reassure Gilgamesh that Merlin hadn’t been among Sinclair’s attackers, but no luck.

  “Gilgamesh, what a surprise!” Merlin said, when he opened the door. He was a short Crow, about five foot six, with light brown hair in a pony-tail. With his painter’s smock, Gilgamesh thought he looked the very picture of a wizard.

  “Yes, well, things changed, and I thought I might come see your latest masterpiece after all.” Gilgamesh approached alone, the result of a tedious day long discussion about dangers to a Crow Master, Crow courtesies, and Tiamat’s expectations for him. As far as the renegotiated Rules were concerned, Gilgamesh now counted as an almost-Guru as well as Crow Master, a combat-ready almost-Guru, able to protect himself from danger. Or so Gilgamesh hoped.

  Hoskins and Sinclair were settled into a Howard Johnson’s about ten miles away.

  “Wonderful! Why don’t we head downtown and I can show it to you. I’ve put it on the lawn at City Hall. Then we can stop by a few of my older pieces that you’ve never seen.”

  Gilgamesh forced himself to smile. “That would be wonderful.”

  Merlin’s masterpiece was a live oak tree on the lawn in front of city hall. The huge old tree, probably hundreds of years old, arched overhead, awesome and majestic. The trunk was so large it would take three men standing hand-to-hand to wrap their arms around it, and the branches went all the way up to the heavens. In his bones, he sensed the sap moving slowly up from roots that ran to the center of the earth.

  Gilgamesh instinctively drew back from the too-powerful presence, pulling his attention from his metasense to his eyes. For a brief instant, he saw an ordinary live oak tree, large and old, but no more magnificent than a thousand others like it. Then his metasense overwhelmed the reality of his eyes, and he saw the ancient world tree, tangling the moon in its branches.

  The trapped moonlight illuminated the leaves and he heard the whispered rustling of the multitudes of creatures that dwelled there. A crow called, and he saw a fluttering of wings out of the corner of one eye. He thought he saw the silhouette of a man among the shadows, hanging from the tree, and the face of a one-eyed man wearing a floppy hat, but it was gone before he could be sure.

  He looked up into the branches and his mind lost track of itself, expanding up and out along the infinite expanse of branches that covered the world. He found himself riding the pheromone flow, and sensed the tiny buzzing motes of the Transforms, like fireflies among the leaves, and as in many of his recent meditations, the newly awakened eyes of the Progenitors, their ghostly presence analyzing and judging. He spotted the gathering threat in the western states, a rotting spot where Pittsburgh should be, Tiamat in Detroit and Kali in Los Angeles, two boats adrift, growing ever more distant from each other. He sensed the hidden presence of the Crows, flickering in and out like minnows under the surface.

  “Gilgamesh, come back,” he heard, after he didn’t know how long. He pulled his attention back to the here and now with a jolting wrench. After stretching his soul out over the world, even the infinite presence of the tree was a relief. He touched the rough brown bark, and realized that he had found the center of the world, here on the city hall lawn in Atlanta Georgia. The weight of all his responsibilities felt heavy on his shoulders.

  “Impressive,” he said, and his voice sounded distant.

  “So it affects even you, the notorious realist,” Merlin said. “I’ll take that as a compliment. This is primarily tuned to Crows, but I put some work into touching the normals as well. Some of them pick up a sense of responsibility when they pass by. I thought it couldn’t hurt around city hall. Occasionally normals come by and meditate here.”

  “What’s it called?” Gilgamesh asked.

  “Yggdrasil,” Merlin said.

  Of course.

  “So you didn’t come all this way to admire my artwork,” Merlin said. They were back in Merlin’s home in the basement of the Collanwolde Fine Arts Center. Merlin claimed an old storage room that everyone seemed to have forgotten about, and after Gilgamesh metasensed the dross constructs lining the walls, he understood why.

  “I’m afraid you’re correct,” Gilgamesh said. “I’m on a quest to heal Sinclair.” Quest. The word sounded ludicrous in the twentieth century, but, well, Nobles.

  “Tell me,” Merlin said, sympathetic. Gilgamesh decided Merlin had been on a few quests himself, in his day.

  Gilgamesh told the story, and did so well, as storytelling was one of his better skills. He left nothing out. With all Merlin’s questions, it took nearly an hour. Eventually Merlin leaned back in his cheap vinyl chair at the flimsy Formica table.

  “So Sinclair and some talking Beast Man are holed up just outside the city,” Merlin said.

  “Noble,” Gilgamesh said. Just because Gilgamesh thought of Hoskins as a Beast Man didn’t mean anyone else could. Hoskins might be a Beast Man, but he was Gilgamesh’s Beast Man.

  “Whatever. Tell them to come in. I want to have a look at them.”

  “Honorable Merlin,” Hoskins said, bowing his head. He carried the unconscious Sinclair in his arms.

  Merlin sniffed, disapproving. “Are you going to behave yourself in my home, or do I need to take steps?” Well layered dross constructs ringed Merlin, many of which Gilgamesh barely metasensed, much less comprehended. Gilgamesh feared Hoskins would say something offensive, but Hoskins remained thoroughly courteous.

  “I’m a guest in your home, Honorable Merlin. I wouldn’t dream of abusing your hospitality.”

  “Hmph. Good. Now put the young Crow down on the couch and let me have a look at him.”

  The couch was right next to the Formica table, and old and worn, with stuffing peeking out from the split seam on one arm. Hoskins put Sinclair down and stood over him warily. Merlin came close and knelt beside Sinclair, probing and poking much like Shadow had done.

  “Can’t you move away a little bit?” Merlin said.

  “Honorable Merlin, it is my job to stand guard over Master Sinclair. I would be remiss in my responsibility if I didn’t guard him well.”

  “Hmph. Well at least you don’t have to loom.” Hoskins didn’t say anything, but he moved a couple of feet toward the other end of the couch. Gilgamesh thought he caught a hint of a smile behind Hoskins’ beard.

  After several minutes, Merlin stood up and went back to the table, where he sat and turned to face Gilgamesh. “Well, Sinclair does indeed seem to have been cast out. And Duke Hoskins does seem to still be more than a barbaric Beast Man. I think I may have to accept your story as true. Conditionally, you understand.”

  “The story is true, sir.”

  “Yes, yes. I’d rather it wasn’t. Crows casting other Crows out without involving their Guru sounds like too much temper and not enough thought. I hope you didn’t expect me to get involved in your fight.”

  “Sir.” Hell, Gilgamesh certainly had hoped Guru Merlin would decide to join their side. He should have known better than to expect Crows to join a fight that wasn’t their own. “Much as I would appreciate your support, I can understand why you wouldn’t want to get involved.”

  “Good. Now, while I won’t join your fight, I can give you a few pointers. You’re massively under-taught. Not that I don’t respect Shadow, but in my day, Gurus didn’t l
earn from just one teacher. Why, when I learned, I had three. Innocence, Rumor and Shadow all helped me, and I learned from whomever I could find, besides. It’s foolish for you to think you can learn to be a Guru by only learning from Shadow. Besides, you seem far enough along to be able to pick up some of my more advanced techniques.”

  Merlin raised a finger. “So, you’ll stay here for a couple of days. You and Sinclair and even the giant that comes with you, and I’ll teach you a few things.”

  Gilgamesh nodded. “That would be useful.”

  “Now, you, giant Duke Hopper or whatever, you go get your things out of whatever exposed motel you’ve parked in. You’ll be much safer here under my defenses.”

  “Certainly, Honorable Merlin,” Hoskins said. “Thank you for your hospitality. May I make a request of you also? If you have a chance, I would also like to see your artwork.”

  Merlin was startled for a brief moment, and then snorted. “My work is meant for Crows. You certainly wouldn’t understand it. But if you insist.” Gilgamesh spotted a little awkward glow of pleasure on Merlin’s face, and silently kept his own face straight, unwillingly impressed with Hoskins’ masterful ability to make friends.

  “I would appreciate the attempt, Honorable Merlin,” he said.

  “Yes, well, maybe you’re a little bit civilized after all. Now go get your things. Do you trust me enough to leave Sinclair here in peace, or are you going to insist on taking him with you?”

  “I trust you, Honorable Merlin.”

  “Good. Then get out of here. Now Gilgamesh, sit down.” Merlin paused, and waited until Hoskins vanished. Then Merlin changed the dross constructs he carried, a new and intricate pattern, to extend around the two of them. “The first thing you need to understand is that there is no magic. However much what you’re doing looks like magic, however much your primitive monkey brain thinks what you’re doing is magic, there is no magic. Everything anyone does with the dross or the juice is no more than chemicals and illusion. If you remember this, you can control your creations. If you ever believe you’re doing magic, then your creations will control you, and you’re lost. Never believe in magic. Now, let me see a basic stabilization structure…”