A long hack followed by a wheeze erupted from her.
The man pounded on her back, harder.
Finally she settled into normal, if shallow, breathing. “What happened? My girls? Are they safe?” She tried to roll over, but Dog kept her pinned in place.
“A small concussion grenade,” the man spat. “Highly illegal and very expensive.”
Sissy didn’t like the sound of that. Nor did she like the way the man stood over her, sword and dagger drawn, knees bent, and ready to fend off a host of attackers.
“My men are protecting the children. All safe.”
Sissy breathed easier. “Explain the concussion grenade.”
He spouted a lot of words Sissy did not understand, like gunpowder and catalyst and ignition.
Wait, she did know that word from her work with Spacer electronics.
“A concussion grenade won’t kill you, but it can damage your hearing. Someone sent you a warning, My Laudae.”
Apparently satisfied that the threat had passed, the man sheathed his weapons and offered his hand to help her up.
“My girls?” she asked again, brushing grass seeds off her simple dress.
“Up and moving, mostly, but they look scared. They could use some of your famous calm reassurance, My Laudae.”
Sissy scanned the scene. Bertie crouched beside the car, wary and uncertain. The moment her gaze lighted on him, he stood and marched toward her. The girls were scattered all over the park, each with an attending soldier. Other children screamed and cried in bewilderment, they clung to the soldiers as well. A scattering of parents or caretakers soothed some. Others wandered alone and lost.
Sissy started toward the first of the abandoned ones. She couldn’t leave them alone.
Her rescuer dogged her footsteps, alert and wary.
“I think the warning was meant for the other castes as well as for me,” she said. Her insides wanted to tremble and turn to liquid. She didn’t dare succumb to the need to run away and hide in some dark corner where no one could find her. “Their children aren’t safe as long as I am the High Priestess of Harmony.”
“That’s how terrorists operate, My Laudae. The best way to counter them is to carry on with your life as if they don’t exist. Don’t let fear rule your life. If you do, then they win, even if they haven’t killed anyone.”
She had five unknown children clinging to her skirts by this time. All wore the Professional caste mark.
“Do I know you?” Sissy turned to face her rescuer. Something in his tone, his authoritative manner reminded her of something. She couldn’t quite put a name to him or a circumstance to their meeting. But she knew she had encountered him before.
“Sergeant Jacob da Jacob pa Law Enforcement HQ H Prime, My Laudae.” He stood at attention, fist to his heart in salute.
“Your name is unknown to me, but not you. How do I know you?” She cocked her head and tried to silently wrap her tongue around the name, like an almost familiar taste.
“At your ordination, My Laudae. I carried you to the vestry after the blue lightning . . . grounded out of you.” He looked almost puzzled.
“I thank you, Sergeant Jacob da Jacob. Twice.” She put her palms together and bowed as she did in front of an altar. “You have questions.”
“My Laudae, how did you survive the lightning? You called it and controlled it. Anyone else would have been fried.”
Sissy had to stop and think. “I have no memory of that. I sang, I rang the chimes, I sought to banish Discord. I had to find the right note. I had to restore Harmony.” She searched for the right words.
“Harmonic vibrations . . . changing the air pressure . . . that explains how you controlled the storms, channeling the energy elsewhere. But the lightning . . .”
“Energy is energy. It all vibrates.”
“Interesting,” Sergeant Jacob da Jacob said. “Very interesting.” He looked as if he were ready to speak again.
Uncomfortable with his questions, having to question how and why she reacted to Harmony, Sissy moved toward the next distressed child. She knelt before him and enfolded him in a comforting hug. The way she wished she could soothe everyone in Harmony City. Especially those who feared her because she was different.
The way she wished someone would soothe her. Stevie, Mom, Pop, anyone of the family would do. Just so long as they hugged her tight and sent the nightmares away.
“Laudae, Laudae, please come.” Mary ran up to her, tugging at her sleeve. “It’s Jilly. She won’t wake up.” The oldest acolyte ran back toward the picnic bench where they’d left their shoes . . . hours ago. Only minutes ago.
Sissy bounced to her feet and ran after her. She had to push and shove soldiers and children aside.
Jilly lay on the ground, round face white and pinched, arms and legs rigid and straight.
Sissy breathed a little easier; she’d expected twisted and broken limbs, blood.
Yes, there was a little blood on the inside of Jilly’s left ear.
“Jilly, wake up,” she murmured as she knelt beside the child. “Jilly, can you hear me?”
The little girl’s eyes flew open. She stared straight up, her gaze fixed on something beyond. Something Sissy could not see.
Then Sissy noticed a peculiar silver glaze over her eyes.
Jilly whispered something, so softly Sissy couldn’t understand the words.
“Say that again, Jilly. Louder,” Sissy ordered. She knew this was important. She bit her lip not wanting to admit she knew what was coming.
“Discord has chosen. Discord will win. Look deep, look long for the answers, for the thing that will subdue Discord before She wins.”
Jilly closed her eyes and moaned. A moment later she looked up again. This time her clear gaze lighted on Sissy. “I’m sorry, Laudae. I didn’t mean to trip and fall. I’m sorry my dress got dirty.” All trace of silver in her eyes had disappeared.
“Not to worry, little ’un. Dresses can be washed and mended. So long’s you aren’t hurt, I don’t care about dresses.” She patted the girl’s hand, soothing her childish worries.
“None of you will repeat a word she said,” Sissy ordered. “A terrorist seeks to silence my gift of prophecy. We will not endanger another with the same gift. I want your oath of silence about Jilly. All of you. Right now.”
“I swear I will tell no one outside the Temple of this,” Bertie said, holding his hand over his heart and bowing his head.
“No. You must tell no one. Not even Laud Gregor,” Sissy insisted. She closed her eyes in dismay at her sudden distrust. In that instant, she knew without a doubt that Gregor would betray her as quickly as he had elevated her if it served his interests.
Looking around her, she knew she could trust these soldiers and her acolytes more than she did the High Priest of all Harmony.
“But surely . . .” Bertie protested.
“No one. If Laud Gregor needs to hear that Jilly bears Harmony’s gift, then I will tell him. No one else. If your superior officers question you about more than the explosion,” she addressed the Military encircling them. “Then you must direct them to me. Now swear your secrecy and your loyalty to me. All of you.”
She held the gaze of Sergeant Jacob da Jacob the longest. He was the last to nod his head and salute.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
MARY APPROACHED SISSY SLOWLY, carrying a heavy headdress of gold-and-black brocade with a veil of dangling crystals and gold beads. She bit her cheeks in concentration while carrying the precious ornament.
Sissy had dressed herself in a robe of black and gold over a new black dress. A special, dressy gown of silky fabric that molded to her bodice and then fell in comfortable swirls down to her ankles. She’d pinned her hair back behind her ears with black-and-gold clasps. The headdress she needed help with.
For the state funeral honoring the fallen Military during the riot she didn’t want to chance a repeat of her ordination breakdown due to the well-meaning attentions of the other Laudaes in
her preparations.
Normally the girls laughed and giggled, making a learning game of every task set for them by Laudae Shanet and Sissy. Not today. Their young faces looked pinched and pale. Worry and bewilderment clouded their eyes after the incident in the park two days ago.
The older girls walked wary circles around Jilly. Not a single pun or joke or prank came from that little girl. She looked more frightened of herself than the other girls did of her.
“It’s not proper, Laudae Sissy,” Mary whispered as she set the heavy crown and veil upon her head. “They shouldn’t be burning all those dead Loods on the day we bury the brave soldiers who gave their lives at the asylum.”
“No, it’s not proper. The bodies should be taken out to the desert and the fields and returned to Harmony through the scavengers. Then we should gather their bones and place them in the funeral caves, the womb of Mother Harmony. They are children of the Goddess as much as we are,” Sissy replied. She couldn’t bring herself to condemn the poor inmates driven to insane violence. She herself could so easily have been one of them. Might be one yet.
“There are too many of them,” Sharan, the littlest of the girls, though not the youngest, said with solemn wisdom. She was always solemn, rarely smiling or laughing with the others. “Leaving so many bodies lying about would encourage the spread of disease and taint the water table.”
“They were Loods, not deserving of burial in a cave,” Martha, next in age to Mary but taller and closer to maturity, protested. “Only Noble and Temple caste deserve interment in a cave.”
Sissy bit her tongue rather than reprimand the girl by instructing her that all people deserved a return to the symbolic womb of Harmony.
“Laudae Estella, Laud Gregor requests an audience,” Sarah, a middle acolyte announced as she bowed to Sissy. She betrayed nothing in her face or posture. She never did.
Sissy could never tell the child’s true mood.
“I shall see him in the office.” Sissy sighed and waved Mary away with the heavy headdress. Then she gathered the skirts of her robe and passed through her private sitting room and public reception room to her office. A place she visited as rarely as possible. Too many unread memos and documents littered the desk, the floor, the chairs. Stacks of them. Mountains of them.
Could she burrow a cave in them and hide from the onerous duty they represented.
“My Laudae.” Laud Gregor bowed to her formally. “I have consulted with my advisers and they agree with me that the climate of the city is too violent for you to preside at today’s funeral.” He, too, wore his black-and-gold funeral regalia, minus the headdress and veil.
It seemed no one liked wearing the heavy headgear any longer than necessary.
“I must preside today,” Sissy insisted. “If I cower in fear, then those who want me removed have won without a fight. I refuse to give them that pleasure.”
She had to remember and keep repeating the wisdom of Sergeant Jacob da Jacob. If she said it often enough, she might come to believe it. She doubted she’d ever actually conquer the fear that quivered within her. She just wouldn’t let it rule her life.
“Laudae Estella . . . Sissy, please reconsider. We honor brave soldiers, not a member of the High Council. We do not need a full court of seven priests and priestesses.”
“Yes, we do. Those soldiers gave their lives to protect the entire city. We owe them nothing less than a full panoply.”
“You are determined? I cannot persuade you to take the path of safety? A bodyguard perhaps? Or a team of guards?”
“Life is not safe. Life is what we make of it. Cowering in fear is not living.” That felt as if someone else gave her the wisdom to utter those words. Not a full prophecy, just . . . help from Harmony. “I will preside today and I will accompany the bodies to the burial caves.”
“Um . . . we actually had planned a private interment.” Laud Gregor refused to meet her gaze.
“Interment? I’m not sure of the word. It sounds like burial, not placement in a cave.”
“My Laudae, you do not understand.”
“Enlighten me.”
Laud Gregor flung his head up, finally looking her in the eye. He narrowed his eyes in surprise. Surprise at the firmness of her tone.
She’d learned a few things in the past three months. Primarily that the only way to wade through layers of half truths and stalling techniques was to remain resolute. Or go to Guilliam.
Was Guilliam the “advisers” Laud Gregor had consulted?
Laud Gregor thrust his chin out and tapped his caste mark. “This is something you do not need to know.”
“Yes, I do. I am High Priestess.”
“I made you High Priestess for a reason. Do not question me.” Anger flared in his eyes.
She nearly backed off.
“Enlighten me as to how far from Harmony’s Covenant our burial practices have strayed,” she demanded. “Enlighten me, and I may accept a bodyguard. A single bodyguard that I shall choose, for when I leave Crystal Temple.” Compromise. Living in a large family with limited space had taught her how to do that.
“A bodyguard it will be, then.” He drew in a deep breath and continued. “Generation after generation from times most ancient have filled the caves,” he replied grudgingly. “We now bury the dead or scatter their ashes nearby. Guilliam,” he called to the hovering presence in the reception area. “Find ten Military officers with Temple credentials for Laudae Estella to choose a bodyguard from.”
“Not yet, Mr. Guilliam,” Sissy jumped in. “Laud Gregor, how are the interments marked so that families may honor their ancestors and join with Harmony next to them? How are scattered ashes so marked?” She nearly cried that her family’s annual trek to their ancestors’ cave to place flowers and notes near the entrance, to spend time recounting the year’s events, introducing new members of the family, and mourning those who had joined the ancestors in Harmony, was a wasted effort.
“Such rituals are for the living. If the dead have joined with Harmony, they are beyond caring,” Laud Gregor insisted.
“How can you say that?” Sissy forced herself to breathe steadily and evenly. In and out. In and out. She wouldn’t let the weakness grab hold and stop her. “Laud Gregor, you and your entire caste are guilty of violating our oldest Covenant with Harmony. And you wonder that our planet, our home, rebels against us with quakes and storms, with violence and fear. With Discord.”
She had to pause lest her anger get the better of her.
“We are your caste as well, Laudae Estella.”
“My name is Sissy. I am of every caste. Clearly, Harmony sent me to right things between Her and Her people. The soldiers will be buried in the caves. The ashes of the asylum inmates as well.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“We will begin correcting our mistakes here and now, or I contact the media and inform all the people of the empire just how far off track we have strayed. I shall inform them how the caste system has violated every rule and promise. How the Temple caste has invited Discord.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“What have I got to lose?”
“Your life.”
Jake tugged at the tight collar of his class A red tunic. He’d donned the uncomfortable uniform first for his promotion ceremony, followed immediately by the formal funeral of the men lost during the riot. And now a preemptive summons by the HP and HPS themselves.
Burying fallen comrades was probably the only thing more uncomfortable than this uniform. One thing Military types had all over the universe was an uncomfortable class A. On top of that, his newly augmented caste mark itched as badly as Pammy’s nanos.
Actually the Harmony medicos did use nanobots to alter an existing caste mark. They didn’t run any checks, just gave him one shot right below the red square to give him an officer’s hash mark. A second shot added a purple circle to the whole. Temple credentials. Upgraded and Lauded in the same procedure. Rescuing the HPS twice brought some perks.
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Now he had to present himself to the HP in class A reds along with six other lieutenants. Most of them barely old enough to shave. Little consolation that they also fidgeted and tugged at too-tight tunics and choking collars. But he did like the shiny purple medal of valor dangling from his chest. None of the other guys had anything so bright or ornamental.
Jake moved so that the sunlight coming in through the big window of the reception area made his new medal sparkle. Why not indulge in a little childish one-upmanship? He had to have some fun in this job or he’d go insane.
As insane as the inmates at the asylum.
Pammy would not approve.
Pammy wasn’t here.
A sense of urgency plagued him. He hoped that his promotion and lauding would help him gain access to the Badger Metal factory he’d located out in the Serim Desert. The only registered factory on the continent. Another one on the Southern Continent.
What about unregistered factories? Could some enterprising renegade have set one up on Far Continent?
Ridiculous. Harmony didn’t have enough renegades to take those kinds of risks and make them profitable.
Far Continent was uninhabitable with active volcanoes, steamy and poisonous jungles, and very unstable plate tectonics. Harmonites had chosen to expand into space rather than take the risk of living there. Other than that, the planet had only a few islands separating North and South and a lot of ocean. A whole heck of a lot of ocean, more than on Earth or anywhere else.
He’d only learned that much about Harmony during his prowls of the city looking for the blasted factory. He’d found maps in the Harbor Master’s office and weather satellite views in the comm tower.
The single door to this holding chamber opened on silent hinges. Jake snapped to attention and slammed his right fist over his heart in an automatic salute. His comrades followed suit a tad slower.
The HP and HPS stood inside the room before the last of the raw lieutenants came fully out of his slouch. The tall and aesthetically slender HP frowned. But then, Jake had heard he usually did. The monochrome dark green street clothes he wore only emphasized his height.
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