Beasts Ascendant: The Chronicles of the Cause, Parts One and Two

by Randall Farmer

  “All right, folks, let’s take a break,” Gail said. The various Focuses and Transforms breathed a collective sigh of relief.

  “This is most helpful,” Grace Johnson told Gail. “I never thought I would ever get access to the real witchery tricks. You don’t know how much help this is going to be back in Detroit.”

  “Me, too!” Annie Prowell said with a laugh. “I think I might even be able to create one of these in another few weeks.” Annie was, if possible, even worse at juice patterns than Rachel Hanneman, but at least she was good-natured. She treated the entire business as a giant joke.

  “Hey, if we’re going to take a break, do you want something to eat?” Tillie Martin said from over at the card table. “I can send one of my people to the cafeteria for some food. No problem at all!”

  Gail did her best to avoid groaning again. “No, we can skip the food.” Every time she took a break, there they were, the suck-up patrol. It wasn’t even the same Focuses every time, but someone always wanted to help, ever since she got shot. Whenever she took a break, some Focus would be there with a bit of flattery or an offer of help. If Gail made a joke, everyone laughed.

  After six years as a Focus, Gail recognized the suck-up routine. She had taken years to train her Transforms out of it, and she never fully succeeded. She never expected to see this crap from other Focuses.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Linda Cooley said to Rachel, with her infinite motherly patience. Linda had learned the pattern in under an hour and spent the rest of the time doing ultra-low powered experimentation. She should have been a Crow, the way she looked at juice music and the juice patterns they produced and saw art. Rachel was tall and rail thin, and Linda was short and well padded, but Linda still managed to take Rachel in her arms and hold her while she sobbed.

  “I can’t do this,” Rachel said. She sobbed even louder into Linda’s abundant breasts. “You all can do this stuff, and I can’t. I just try and try and it always comes out wrong.” Grace Johnson, who had also mastered the pattern in under an hour, left Gail’s side to sit down beside Ellen. She pulled one of the Zielinski diagrams over and she and Ellen started talking, hunched over the diagram. Tillie excused herself, stood, and went back to torturing one of her bodyguards with an automated juice moving practice pattern. Several of the other Transforms backed off, having already been accidentally pasted by Tillie earlier that day.

  Gail supposed she should have more sympathy for Focus Hanneman, but people’s lives depended on the Focuses learning these skills. Gail, who didn’t have time to waste, couldn’t afford to invest this much effort in Focuses who didn’t get it.

  Exactly, a little voice inside her said. Today, her little internal voice sounded far too annoyingly like Tonya.

  Esther Weiczokowski had set her up. Esther seemed so enthusiastic about the juice music training. She said she wanted to help, and suggested a whole list of Focuses for the training after Addie Hocutt won her the right to do so. Esther’s eagerness was why Gail stood up to Tonya and said Esther was salvageable.

  Gail’s personal recruits were fine. However, every one of the Focuses Esther recommended were just plain incompetent. Not a one learned this simple pattern in less than six hours, and several couldn’t even learn the notes. Esther wanted these Focuses to be sand in her gears, and Esther’s support of the juice music project was a lie. She wanted Gail to crater like an airplane with four dead engines. The cold political games made Gail feel sick, despite the fact that Tonya predicted them.

  What should she do? The obvious answer scared her. She hadn’t been dissembling or making excuses when she said that being on the Council would catch her too much heat.

  “I know. It’s pretty hard,” Linda Cooley said to Rachel. “Those wonder witches learn it right off the bat, but us slow folks need to use a few tricks.”

  “Tricks?” Rachel said.

  “Uh huh, tricks. Like breaking the pattern down into little music sections. What I do is practice each little piece on its own until…”

  ---

  “Ellen?” Gail said. They met in Gail’s personal suite around a small, beautifully set table, with Betha Ebener and Isabella Wheelhouse elegantly serving them. Gail didn’t normally go for that kind of pretentious Focus formality, but she wanted the chance to talk to Ellen O’Donnell away from ears she couldn’t control. At least she had cadged a few hours of sleep and a shower. Gail felt like she could almost think again. Her afternoon work, figuring out the day’s bad news on her magic corkboard, calling people and trying to arrange for fixes, had nearly exhausted her.

  The Hunters were probing all over the map. The map had, improbably, made the war against the Hunters Gail’s personal responsibility. Now a shared responsibility, as she had taken to inviting Count Dowling and Gilgamesh over for daily late afternoon map gazing.

  Ellen smiled, a cool social smile, as she waited for Gail to take the first bite. She was an exceptionally beautiful woman, even for a Focus, Gail decided. The red hair and milk pale skin would make her stunning if she picked up a little human warmth. “Hmm?”

  “You’re reasonably senior as a Focus. Did you ever have other Focuses, you know, flattering you and such?” Gail said. She fulfilled her duties as hostess and dug into the salad as she waited for Ellen to answer.

  Ellen laughed. Even her laugh was elegant, like the sound of bells, unlike Gail’s own noisy nasal honks and girlish titters. “Of course. Remember, I was one of Suzi Schrum’s senior flunkies. Far too many Focuses spent far too much effort trying to worm their way into my good graces. I think they mostly hoped they could deal with me instead of with Schrum.”

  “So what did you do?”

  Ellen raised an eyebrow at Gail. “You’re having trouble with the attention from the other Focuses?”

  “Well, it seems so weird. Every time I move, some Focus is flattering me, or offering to do something for me, or buttering me up somehow or other.”

  “What, you never did that sort of thing?” Ellen said. She took a warm roll from the basket and buttered it.

  “Of course not.”

  Ellen raised an eyebrow, and Gail remembered an incident back when she was a new Transform. She had offended Tonya, and after many hours of soul searching, she offered an apology she didn’t think was warranted. After that, she put a lot of effort into staying in Tonya’s good graces. Then there was Cathy Elspeth – another incident where Gail put her foot in her mouth. Cathy, one of the first Focuses, had been inclined to be friendly to Gail, and Gail put work into keeping her that way. Now that Gail thought about it, there were other Focuses, too, on other occasions…

  “Well, all right, yes, but not too often. It’s still weird,” Gail said.

  Ellen laughed again. “You’re important now. Of course people want to get on your good side.”

  “I don’t like it. How am I supposed to get to know people if they’re always feeding me some cheery image of themselves?”

  “Oh, it’s worse than that. How are you supposed to know what’s going on out in the world if people are always feeding you sweetness and light? ‘Oh, no, Focus Rickenbach, nothing’s wrong. Everything’s going swimmingly. You don’t need to come in and straighten me out. And what else do you want to hear? I can tell you that, too’.”

  “Hell,” Gail said.

  Ellen nodded. “You’ve got real power now. You run the Network, so you’ve got other Major Transforms who’ll do what you tell them. That makes you important. How else do you expect people to react? Think about it. Consider Grace Johnson, a mid-level Focus with responsibility for the entire city of Detroit. She’s doing the most sensible thing I can think of, which is to make friends with a powerful, important Focus, one who can maybe help her out and give her some support. Or Tillie Martin. She wants the juice music training so badly she can hardly stand it.”

  Or you, Gail thought silently. Ellen was more subtle, but Ellen too was going out of her way to be friendly. As with Linda Cooley and Gerry Caruthers, though, Ellen wa
s much more of an equal than a desperate suck-up.

  “You’re not going to be able to change the way this works,” Ellen said. Gerry’s comment about ‘juice-powered ass-kissing being the Focus way’ echoed through Gail’s head. “You need to recognize what’s going on and make use of it. Like Grace. She’s got a choice of who she could be flattering.”

  Gail nodded. “She’s here with me, not down in Louisville sucking up to Esther.”

  “Right. So give her the support she needs. Because of this, she’ll owe you, and you can call on her when you need Focuses loyal to you. With a bit of work, you’ll pick up a solid junior ally.”

  “I’m going to need those.” She shook her head. “I’m not used to thinking like that yet. But Tillie Martin’s another one, isn’t she?” Gail decided she did need to make use of Tillie; Tillie would be perfect to take over Gail’s time-eating new Focus mentoring duties. “Linda Cooley’s going to be trickier, because she sees herself as a peer, but she’s in Chicago, so I need to make sure I don’t mess up my relationship with her.” The same way she messed up her long-standing friendship with Beth. All the reasonably talented Major Transforms were touchy, and justifiably so.

  “You’ve got a lot to offer, and both you and Linda are close to Arm Hancock,” Ellen said. “Use it. If you want to succeed as a senior Focus, you need a whole collection of junior Focuses who’re loyal to you. Plus a bunch of more senior ones who owe you.”

  Gail sighed. “I’ve been working on this for about eighteen months, ever since I became the head of the Midwest Region mentoring program. But, of course, none of those young Focuses are up for that kind of fight, and they, at least, are willing to tell me the truth when I ask for it.” She shook her head. “Do you have any suggestions about what I should be doing about the bullshit the rest of them feed me? I need to figure out what’s going on if I’m going to be effective.”

  Ellen didn’t react, carefully stone-faced. “Generally, just being aware that people are slanting the information helps a lot. Back-check your facts. Maybe one particular Focus won’t tell you that she’s screwing up, but another Focus in the same city probably will be glad to tell you. Once you’ve got yourself all these allies, they’ll tell you all sorts of things. You’ll get good information after you factor out the personal biases. And don’t forget your household. All sorts of interesting information passes through the normals.”

  “Oh, hell. That sounds like what the first Focuses were doing. Spying, getting people to rat each other out. I don’t want to live like that.”

  Ellen’s eyes went hard. “The problem with the first Focuses was the assumption of impunity, not the fact they put work into uncovering the truth.”

  Gail turned away in thought while Isabella brought in a pair of grilled steaks, with asparagus to the side. She wasn’t sure she agreed with Ellen. Time to change the subject.

  “Actually, there is something I can offer you, if you’re interested,” Gail said, properly formal.

  Ellen smiled slightly, recognizing the game. After all, it was the game they were talking about. “I’d certainly be interested in your help, and I’d certainly be willing to offer you whatever help I could in return.”

  Gail laughed. “I think I finally found a household for you, and it’s a good place for the Count’s Barony, as well.”

  All humor faded from Ellen’s face, as the game suddenly became real. “What kind of household?”

  “They’re north of San Francisco, in Webberly’s territory. The household runs a winery. Late yesterday, the Hunters came through and either killed or captured their Focus, we don’t know which. We’ve got an entire household of Transforms sitting there naked, without a Focus.”

  “What’s the household like?”

  “I don’t know. The Focus was four years out and only mid-caliber, from what I can tell, but she was competent enough for her household to make money.”

  Ellen stared thoughtfully out through the wide window, out over the low buildings of northern Chicago. “What about my existing household?”

  “Solved that as well. Gerry’s been muttering about expanding her Chicago test household, but I told her to go slow, just in case I found something for you.” Gerry was more than willing to take Ellen’s rejects, as long as Gail wasn’t too particular about what she did with them.

  Ellen leaned back and speared a stalk of asparagus. “I’m keeping my real eight, the ones who stayed loyal to me. Feeding the rest to Gerry wouldn’t bother me at all.” She paused and thought. “Is there going to be enough Hunter action to make Fred happy, or was this just a one-time thing?” Count Dowling wanted a place where there was going to be some fighting. He had been practically salivating over the obvious need for the Hunters to attack Chicago at the start of the coming Hunter war.

  “According to the magic corkboard, the Hunters are making a major push into the San Francisco area.” Gail paused. “There’s one other thing, though.”

  “Yes?”

  “Arm Webberly’s been being a bit of a problem. In the Commander’s absence, Arm Haggerty serves as the current head of the Arms, but Arm Webberly is the next Arm down on the Arm food chain, and she resents Arm Haggerty’s authority. This is some kind of Arm dominance thing, not overly flagrant, but she kind of picks at Arm Haggerty’s orders, and pushes the limits. I wouldn’t say she’s gone Rogue Arm, but it’s close.”

  Ellen groaned. “Arm Webberly’s been reasonable to me.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s one of those Arm dominance things they don’t like to show to us Focuses. A few weeks ago, for instance, Arm Webberly went out and finished cleaning up the first Focuses. She took a couple of other Arms and took down Craig, Rocha, Holder, Corrigan, Rhodes, Cash, Sanderson and Titus.”

  Ellen smiled a predatory grin. “And the problem with that is what?” She held a particular grudge against the first Focuses. Which put her in exceptionally good company.

  “Two problems. First, she didn’t clear it with anyone. She’s doing some sort of song and dance about leftover orders from the Commander, but the truth is, she’s doing pretty much whatever she damned well pleases. Second, the only one on the list of Focuses she cleaned up that needed cleaning up is Corrigan. The rest are non-entities, or worse. The Council’s trying to negotiate their release, but they haven’t succeeded, so far.”

  “What do you want me to do? Am I supposed to help the Council negotiate the release of the captive Focuses?”

  Gail shook her head. “Best is to pretend it never happened, and let the Council deal with Webberly on this issue.” Gail paused as Ellen nodded in relief. “No, what I want you to do is attract Arm Webberly’s attention and keep her busy. Because of the Hunter attacks she needs allies, and a Noble household with a strong witch Focus can’t be beat for that. She also believes in the push the Cause stuff and was one of the Arms who was interested in Count Dowling’s four Major Transform variety household, another thing that should keep her busy. Lastly, she’s in charge of training all the baby Arms. I’m hoping all that will be enough to keep even an Arm too busy to make trouble.”

  Ellen looked out the window thoughtfully. “If I’m going to do this, Gail, I’m going to need to be able to give juice to Rose. That’s the only way an Arm is going to be willing to join a household like this.”

  “I can give you copies of all the necessary Zielinski diagrams. You’ve got the basics and you should be able to learn the juice-to-an-Arm trick without any real difficulties.”

  Ellen nodded. “This sounds good to me. Let me talk to Fred and see if he agrees.”

  Gail smiled. Trading favors. As Gail put together her network of allies, Ellen O’Donnell wouldn’t be the least of them.

  Next Time Don’t Miss (1/26/73)

  The Chicago streets remained silent except for the chaos at the Branton in the pre-dawn hours. Gail stood at the window of her suite as Ellen and her household drove away with Count Dowling and his Barony. A caravan of vehicles, so much like the Hunter caravan traipsing a
cross Wyoming that made the national evening news last night. At least Dowling kept his Monsters inside the truck, where no one would notice them. Gail would have liked to be downstairs sending them off, but she couldn’t and keep her composure. Beth, the former Blue Ridge barony, Inferno, Van and Daisy, and now Ellen and Count Dowling. All gone. Ellen’s new household and Dowling’s Barony would probably make it to San Francisco in about three days, taking a path south of the Hunter strongholds. Gail felt a momentary surge of excitement for Ellen’s sake, and imagined going off to a new household and starting over. Gail almost wished she was the one making the new start. It would be so easy to shuck all the old, pressing problems. Start over. Be anonymous.

  As the sun rose, the protestors started to gather, the backlash over the good press she got after being shot. She didn’t appreciate the signs: Death to Monsters. Transforms, die! Americans only! Next time, don’t miss! The last placard showed a picture of Gail’s face, with a gunsight bull’s-eye drawn over. She could hear their hostile voices in her mind.

  She sighed and carefully made sure her mood didn’t affect her household’s juice count. In the old days, Van would be coming close right about now, to hold her and tell her that everything would work out. Not anymore, and she missed him so badly that tears pooled in her eyes. Now, all she had left was a baby on the way, and it wasn’t even his.

  Van had written to her after the Inferno caravan arrived at Focus Pitre’s place, saying he still loved her. He just needed some time to himself. A little time, to do a little thinking.

  Gail recognized the fond farewell between his kind words. He might come back, but she judged the chances as low, and their relationship would never be the same as before. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her torso. So alone.