Wave Mandate

by Schneider, A. C.

  “The anomaly,” she proclaimed, stepping aside so that her guest could walk past.

  “If you were paying attention,” said the guest, while entering the room and removing a hood to reveal the man beneath, “you would have accepted the fallacy of categorizing something as an anomaly when its inexplicable timeliness can only point to orchestration.”

  The man had a regal air about him. He was handsome, with eyes suggesting an age of years far beyond what the rest of his features portrayed. Most striking was the man’s hair, a mane of pure light.

  “You’re saying this was meant to happen to her? That she was meant to be here?”

  The man did not answer Shasah’s questions. Instead, he extended an open hand into the room, a gesture that beckoned. Across the way, past an empty bed and behind a dividing curtain, the silhouette of a woman, her head accentuated by an aura of light, rose to an upright, seated position.

  Chapter 42: Toast

  The Blumbrock residence - Isle Castious, Osmos

  “Let’s get this over with.”

  “You’re really making a bigger deal of this than it is.”

  Dunner and Kelerin had just gotten to the office. Kelerin’s left arm was secured again in a sling. Although unintentional, the blue strap and arm pocket happened to match the cross sash of his Teacher’s uniform perfectly and almost looked like it was part of the ensemble.

  Dunner was also sporting the blue colors now, having been offered a faculty position by Jonas shortly after their ordeal. The new Professor had told Dunner then that he was never more proud of him and that adversity seems to have finally expunged the boy from the man. Kelerin suspected the boy hadn’t really gone very far and would be turning up to surprise Jonas once again, soon enough.

  “If I’m not out in five minutes it means one of us is probably dead,” said Dunner, rather over dramatically.

  “Would you just get in there?”

  Dunner took a deep breath and held it as he knocked on the heavy sheethem wood doors, quietly hoping no one would be there.

  “Come,” came the answer from the other side.

  He opened the doors and stepped into a massive home office combining comfort, luxury and functionality. Plush rugs, hand woven from Shwellous natives lined the wooden floors and a mixture of expensive paintings from various eras and styles decorated the walls in no particular thematic arrangement, informing the educated visitor that their host was knowledgeable about art, but didn’t care for it beyond the fact that it was expensive, and that he wanted others to know he owned it.

  A labyrinth of couches and chairs, and one full sized bar, stood between himself and a man behind a massive desk. Behind the man, a wall-to-wall mural depicting mining charts of Ipsidian deposits from the Mainland, a smaller squared off section carving out the mural’s top right corner featuring one more such deposit on Caras 3.

  Dunner looked at the map and could still make out a spot at its bottom center that was more faded than the rest. As a boy, he remembered being ordered to scrub that spot clean after using it for a canvas to color a picture of a house, with a sun shining and a stick figure family - father, mother and son - standing outside on a grassy patch. The family had no faces but he couldn’t remember if that was because he hadn’t had time to draw them before getting caught, or whether it was due to his only knowing how to draw smiley faces and he didn’t feel smiling was an accurate representation of his family, even at age four.

  “Father, you sent for me?”

  “Dunatharious!” exclaimed Blumbrock, offering an approving smile after looking up from his console and seeing who it was standing before him. “The conquering Academic returns.” Rising from his seat, the wealthy Representative from Castious walked around his considerable workstation and over to the bar, pouring himself a drink and downing it in a single swig.

  Dunner tried to appreciate his father’s goodwill but it was difficult when he knew the man’s warmth was always conditioned upon success. “Surprised, are you?”

  “Pleasantly. I always did tell you, one can accomplish anything if they put their mind to it.”

  “I seem to recall it being more along the lines of, don’t be a screw up.”

  Blumbrock laughed and refilled his drink, refusing to allow his son to ruin his good cheer. Snatching a second glass off a shelf from behind the bar, he filled that one up as well and brought it over, handing it to Dunner while turning to see what his son was admiring.

  “Ah, the new site on Caras 3,” said Blumbrock, raising his glass to point to the top right corner of his mural. “We didn’t have that one up the last time you were here, did we? It’s turning out to be quite the money pit, I’m afraid, costing the firm a fortune, far more than the initial assessment. But it’s only an exploratory dig. Caras 3 has huge potential. I’m trying to explain that to the old relics on the board. Imagination and risk seem to be the first casualties of old age. Never get old, son.”

  Dunner could care less about his father’s corporate campaigns and trading triumphs. He only hoped Kelerin was still waiting outside for him so that he wouldn’t have to go searching the sea of guests below to find him again. “Was there something you wanted to discuss with me,” he asked, flatly.

  His father eyed him from the side, clearly disappointed in not being able to share war stories of another sort with his now battle-hardened son. “I’d heard from sources that the Academy was going to offer you a faculty position,” he began, “and here you are, looking very much the part in your Teacher’s uniform. I guess this means you won’t be needing me to find you a job at the firm, after all. And not that I wouldn’t love to see you following in my footsteps, Dunatharious, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say how proud I am to have a son who’s made Academic Faculty.”

  “Thank you, father,” said Dunner with guarded graciousness.

  Tilting his drink to his lips, Blumbrock added, “Looks like circumstances have really worked out in your favor, haven’t they?”

  There it is. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  Gulping down a mouthful of Tarak and sighing with satisfaction, Blumbrock asked innocently, “What’s what supposed to mean?”

  “In my favor? Meaning, all it took was a few dead Academics for your son to have a chance at making the cut, is that it?”

  “I was referring to your role in taking down those raiders on Caras 4.”

  “Sure you were. And how exactly is the Academy blowing up and dozens of Academics getting killed, working out?”

  “You didn’t kill them, Dunatharius,” said Blumbrock, rolling his eyes and taking another swig before maneuvering back to his desk, “don’t be so dramatic. You capitalized on an opportunity, that’s all.”

  Dunner slammed his glass down on a side table in disgust. “Thanks for the talk, father, this was great. Let’s do it again sometime.”

  Blumbrock didn’t seem fazed by his son’s disapproval, but he did remember something else he wanted to ask him. “Oh, Dunatharius?” Dunner stopped at the doors, tilting his head toward the ceiling but not turning around. “If you see Jonas, please let him know I’m looking for him.” Dunner gave no reply. He opened the doors and was about to leave when his father called out again. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll find him myself. Should be heading down to my own party at some point, don’t you think?”

  Dunner would have loved to let his father know exactly what he thought of him, but he restrained himself, simply stepping out and closing the doors behind him.

  *****

  “Not as bad as you thought, right?” Kelerin had been waiting for Dunner outside and clapped a hand on his shoulder encouragingly when he exited.

  “Let’s just go,” said Dunner, without elaboration.

  They walked down a narrow hallway crammed with exotic plants and paintings, antique side tables with fresh floral arrangements and altogether forgettable sculptures. They followed the sounds of the party; the chatter of the crowd, glasses clicking, an occasional dish breaking - th
e sounds grew louder until they reached the mouth of the hallway opening up to a small balcony overlooking a massive, marble floored portico. There were no walls to this seaside, indoor/outdoor enclosure. Instead, a ring of giant stone pillars stood guard on all sides. At high tide, the ocean would sometimes overflow the rocks of the bluff, ankle high surf ebbing and flowing freely between the pillars, bathing the marble floor in the warmer, foam capped waters of the Telorn.

  On this evening, joining the rising and falling tide, there was a different sort of flow of a different kind of sea altogether; several thousand Islanders from all walks of the aristocratic class joined the waters in entering and exiting the portico, mingling in dignified fashion with hard drinks in the hands of formally dressed men, rouge on the lips of glamorous woman, their long dresses skimming the water’s surface at their feet, and news of recent events - the political ramifications therein and thereof - on the tongues of all.

  Some remained under the bright lights of the portico while others opted to stroll outside the pillars, enjoying the beautiful evening breeze blowing all along the surrounding bluff, ever vigilant against an animated moonlit ocean.

  Members of Parliament clinked glasses with the heads of large corporations while Island Guard officers loitered in small boys-club cliques, all hoping to attract a token Academic, scattered throughout the crowd as they were, their presence being a sure way to add prestige to any group as their story was the one of the hour.

  Most startling about this particular party, though, was the presence of the Prophets, whom had made the unprecedented trip down from Caras 1 to attend, rumor having it, on the orders of the Grand Mother herself. Prophets were particularly easy to pick out from the crowd given their plain drab cloaks, standing out like featureless gravitational wells interspersed throughout a colorful array of Parliamentarians, civilian executives, Guardsmen, in their red and gold dress fatigues, and Academics, looking sharp as always in their assortment of blue and white. That shouldn’t have made it any easier on Kelerin’s part to spot Analel among the hundreds of Prophets in attendance, even if their hoods were left down as a matter of social courtesy. Yet his eyes gave the crowd no more than a once over and fell immediately upon her.

  “There she is!” he exclaimed.

  “Who?” asked Dunner.

  “Analel. My Prophet.”

  “Where?”

  He threw his hands up in exasperation at the impossible task of pointing out someone in that sea of people. He then gestured halfheartedly in Analel’s general vicinity.

  “Down in the middle there. With the… the… brown hair.”

  “Brown hair? Really?” Dunner’s tone, dripping with sarcasm.

  “Standing next to another blonde headed Prophet.”

  “Does she have brown eyes too? Because then we’d be getting somewhere.”

  “Look, whaddya want from me? The place is packed.”

  “So let’s go down to her.”

  “By the time we get down there she’ll be lost in the crowd again.”

  “What are you talking about? Watch this.”

  Kelerin knew Dunner well enough to know it was occasion to worry whenever he uttered the words, Watch this. “Wait, what are you gonna-”

  “HEY, ANALEL, UP HERE!”

  Kelerin was mortified. He started pulling Dunner back away from the railing with his one good arm. It wasn’t easy. “Get down. Are you crazy?”

  But Dunner was putting up a valiant effort to hold his position as he waved wildly to the confusion of many guests below. “ANALEL! ANALEL, UP HERE!” Eventually Kelerin succeeded in wrestling his friend away. “OK,” said Dunner, “I’m pretty sure I got her attention.”

  “Ya think?”

  “Let’s go.” Smiling mischievously, he bounded down the narrow, spiral staircase just off to the side of the balcony that led straight to the portico floor. Kelerin sighed laboriously and followed. They made their way throughout the crowd before coming to a pair of Prophets who’d been watching their progress.

  Kelerin noticed Analel’s left arm was also in a sling. “No, not you too?”

  “Yep,” she said, holding out her slung arm, happy for the chance to show off her war wound. She then feigned a more serious, pensive expression. “Technically, if I remember correctly, I injured my forearm first.” She gave Kelerin a sidelong glance and flashed him a cheeky grin. “Are you copying me now, Academic?”

  Kelerin was game to play along. “Um, actually, as I recall, and as you should too having been my Prophet at the time, I injured this shoulder long before you bumped your forearm, during my duel with Valix, so clearly you’re the one copying me.”

  “A bump? That’s what you’re calling this?” She lifted her arm higher as evidence of his downplaying the truth.

  Dunner interjected from behind. “Oh, would you two please stop being so nauseatingly cute. It’s bad enough you’re matching invalids.”

  “Excuse my friend,” apologized Kelerin, “he can be tactless at times, and while we’re on the subject, sorry about calling down from the balcony like that, as I said, tactless.”

  Analel laughed. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

  “Yeah,” added Quinn, “It was funny.”

  “Ah, you see that, Kel,” said Dunner, pushing past Kelerin and moving closer to Quinn. “At least some people here have a decent sense of humor, and, unlike yourself, aren’t all that bad to look at, either.”

  “Again, I apologize,” said Kelerin. “He doesn’t get out much.”

  Quinn laughed. “He’s charming.”

  “You’re voice sounds familiar to me,” said Dunner. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

  “Unlikely.”

  Kelerin felt it was time for introductions. “Ladies, this is Dunner. Dunner, Analel and… I’m sorry I never caught-”

  “Dunner!” exclaimed Quinn, in utter astonishment.

  “Oh,” flattered, “you’ve heard of me. I suppose it makes sense with everything that’s been going on.” Sighing as one does when carrying the burden of sudden fame, he began speaking as if he were holding court with his greatest fans. “Yes, I’m the one who jumped on a raider ship and flew to Caras 4, alone. Yes, it was dangerous, but no, I wasn’t scared. And do you want to know why-”

  The slap came swiftly and mercilessly, catching Dunner square on the cheek, completely off guard. Quinn then promptly spun on her heel and stomped off into the crowd.

  “Quinn!” called out Analel after her, reprovingly. She turned back to Dunner, red faced and embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s not usually like this… Well, actually she is. But not with people she’s never-”

  “I knew I recognized that voice,” exclaimed Dunner, promptly cutting off Analel’s excuse making. “Please tell your friend from me, that her monstrous personality is even more impressive in person!” And with that, he stomped off as well, heading in the opposite direction Quinn had gone in.

  Both Kelerin and Analel were left standing there, mouths agape. “Um, did we miss something,” asked Analel, after several seconds of dumbstruck silence.

  “I would say so.” Then, taking it in stride, Kelerin said. “Look, I don’t know about your friend, but Dunner’s always been nuts.”

  “Nope, you’re right. Quinn too. Still love her, though.”

  “Oh, for sure.”

  Kelerin scanned their surroundings and found an area just outside the pillars that was a little less crowded than anywhere else at the moment. He turned to Analel. “Can we talk?”

  *****

  “Can we talk?” asked Jonas, cutting into a conversation Mother Erin was having with some corporate executive from one of the multitude of mining outfits present. The exec was clearly not happy with the prospect of leaving the company of a beautiful Prophet, but Jonas’ tone and body positioning indicated he knew Erin and had the right to demand this privilege. The exec politely excused himself.

  Erin threw Jonas a tiresome look. At f
irst Jonas thought it was leftover from speaking with the corporate exec but then he began to wonder. “What would you like to talk about,” asked Erin.

  Is that passive hostility? he asked himself. He couldn’t imagine why Erin would be acting this way toward him. Perhaps it was all in his head. But if so, why was she pretending like she didn’t know what it was he wanted to talk about? They’d been putting off this conversation for months, maybe even a year. He decided to start off on a lighter note. “They offered me the position of Headmaster. No way I can accept the offer, of course. Clearly I’m not qualified. I’ve only just made Professor and haven’t even taken the examinations for that yet.”

  “I think you’d make an excellent Headmaster,” assured Erin, clinically.

  “You do?” he asked, happier for her praise than for her advice. He still didn’t know why Erin was acting so cold toward him but he hoped her iciness might be thawing.

  “Yes, I do. You clearly have the heartless, analytical ability to make tough decisions without allowing emotions to get involved.” The backhanded compliment left Jonas speechless. “Congratulations,” she concluded, and then stalked off.

  Jonas broke out of his stupor quickly enough to catch up with her, grabbing her by the arm and spinning her toward him. Erin looked down at Jonas’ grip, anger flashing across her face, like she was ready to hit him with an offensive Wave Thought. But the look quickly vanished. Instead, she demanded coolly, “Please take your hand off me.”

  “What’s going on with you?”

  “You wanna know what’s going on with me?”

  “Yes, I do-”

  “That was my daughter, Jonas, my baby!”

  “And I saved her.”

  “Yes, you saved her. After a thorough assessment of all the facts, you came face to face with the reality I asked you to trust me on - begged you to trust me on.”

  “Erin, I needed to know what was going on. You think it was easy for me?”

  “Do you think it was easy for me? To trust a complete stranger with two years of my life. I lived in a box for you for two years! Gave up raising my daughter for you for two years! I had to watch from inside your mind, you and Gensala coming closer every day…” Erin closed her eyes tight and shook the memory away. “No! It wasn’t easy. But I did it. And after two years I believed something developed between us. I believed this something went both ways.” Erin’s voice cracked a bit and Jonas instinctively moved to comfort her, but she retreated from his advance and became hard again. “You couldn’t trust me the way I trusted you. You put my daughter’s life at risk. I’m a Prophet and you’re an Academic, and if need be I will make sure you have my Sight. But beyond that, I don’t think there’s anything for us to discuss.”