He’d stayed in Majus Cyrysi’s apartment for days. Enos had pulled him out of that funk, but she was gone. If he went back, Inas wouldn’t be able to pull him out, not in his state. And what about his friend? Inas needed a familiar presence with him, to heal.
I have to go. I have to find out what I am. Why I’m here. And Inas has to be with me, for both our sakes.
“What do you say, Sam?” the Effature asked.
“I promise I’ll come back soon,” Sam told Majus Cyrysi.
Just like that, he’d decided. He’d developed an affection for the arrogant, grumpy, old Kirian over the last few months. He was loyal to those around him. But Sam needed more than he could teach.
Sam looked to Wor Wobniar. It was hard to find a place to focus, as xy didn’t have eyes, so he fixed his gaze on the strip of light. “It will be for a few days, and then we’ll come back? We have important things happening, and a person we must find. But you can teach me how to control this?” He gestured at the bridge again.
“I can teach you of the lost houses of maji,” Wor Wobniar said, flashing xyr lights. “Even a day or two in my facet of the Nether will give you enough to practice for many days. I can take you through the prepared passage in the wall. Only one with our abilities can do this and I can show you how.” Xy waved all three of xyr claw-like hands in the air. “I vow I will bring him back to you. But we must leave now. There is much to do.” Xy scuttled a few steps back to the wall.
Sam looked to Inas, hunched over the steel railing. He stared back at Sam, the pain in his eyes clear. Something shifted under the skin of his face, then smoothed away. He had to have someone help him over what he was going through. Sam had experience with that mountain of anxiety pressing on his back. Inas had been living in his apartment instead of his mentor’s. A few days for Inas might be too long.
Enos told him to look after me, but I think she meant for me to look after him, too. I need him and he needs me.
“Do you want to come?” he asked, holding out a hand to Inas.
Almost in slow motion, Inas’ head came forward, then back up. A nod. “With you,” was all he said.
Sam looked the question to Wor Wobniar, who paused, xyr stubby legs tapping the steel in thought. Xyr head flaps waved toward Sam, then shifted to the Aridori.
“He is not of the same house.”
“That one is also one’s apprentice,” Majus Caroom said. “Which, hmm, one just got back, and has not seen nearly enough.” Their voice had a snap Sam had never heard before. It made him want to find somewhere to hide. He swallowed and gathered his courage.
“Only for a day or two,” he promised, holding up both hands. He wasn’t sure whether he was addressing the Benish or the being who had come through the wall.
What am I doing and where did I get the courage to do this?
“He needs me, and I need him. Isn’t that right, Inas?” Sam raised his voice at the last part.
Inas shook himself, his face haunted. One of his hands clenched. Only because Sam was watching did he see the ripples cascading up his arm, like worms wriggling through his skin. He didn’t think the others had seen. Inas looked over the group of maji, as if just realizing they were watching. Then he opened the clenched hand and touched the steel railing of the bridge with a frown. Sam wondered whether it was for him or for the tremors that still shook his hand. “I would like to go. My sister told me to stay close to Sam.”
“Which is another question we don’t have a suitable answer to, I might add,” Majus Ayama said. “We need to find her, quickly. The only reason we are here is, well—” she gestured to Wor Wobniar.
“There are to be many unanswered questions here,” Majus Cyrysi said. His crest was drooping like he’d just dunked his head in water. Sam felt for his mentor, but without real training, he would never know what he could do.
“I believe much may be answered if Sam is to go with Wor Wobniar,” the Effature said. “If Inas also wishes to go, then perhaps he may act as another ambassador to the next facet of the Nether. There are many unsettling coincidences lately, and I would like answers as much as the rest of you. Two will remember more than one.” He turned to the Benish. “Will you accept your apprentice’s departure for a few days?”
Majus Caroom harrumphed, and crossed their arms with a creak. “Hmmmmm,” they rumbled. “Inas has been nearly absent from one’s care since that one returned. If this journey will cause that one to recover from the pain experienced, then one will allow it.” They stumped forward stiff-legged, stopping in front of Inas. “Does this one feel travel with Sam will aid?”
Inas locked eyes with his mentor. Sam hadn’t seen them interact as mentor and pupil often, but Inas had been more proficient in changing the Symphony than Sam or Enos before he was captured. Majus Caroom had taught him well.
“I believe traveling with Sam will help me, Majus Caroom,” Inas said. “I promise, when I return, I’ll be ready for your lessons again.”
Majus Caroom seemed to accept the answer, and Inas took an unsteady step forward, reaching for Sam’s hand. The warmth of Inas’ body engulfed Sam’s fingers and he squeezed.
“And we may well have more resources and species to draw from afterward,” Majus Ayama said. She looked thoughtful. “I look forward to the species from your facet traveling here.”
“Then we’ll go with Wor Wobniar?” Sam said, half as a question, and half as a statement.
Majus Cyrysi sighed. “If it is to be helping you Sam, you should be going.”
Sam blinked. That was not the answer he expected, and from his mentor least of all.
“Make certain you are to be remembering everything you are learning on the other side of the wall. I want to be told when you return.”
“One will, hmm, be interested as well how the other facet views those of the House of Strength,” Majus Caroom rumbled.
Ah. That was more like it. His mentor was always one for learning, if there was a chance. Sam looked around, but the other maji appeared content to let the two speak for them. Majus Ayama was peering at Wor Wobniar, and Sam guessed she was listening to the Symphony of Healing, trying to get a bead on the Nostelrahn’s anatomy or mental structure. Only Rey was scowling, off to one side. He divided his glare between Sam, the bridge, and Wor Wobniar. He did not look to Inas.
“Then I will prepare,” Wor Wobniar grated, the words appearing in Sam’s mind. Xyr head flaps folded back against xyr head, and the strip of lights faded to a dull gray.
An aura of silver grew around the alien, and xy gestured with one claw for Sam and Inas to come closer. As xy did, everything around them slowed, the movements of the group behind them languid. Someone was speaking, but it blurred into a low rumble.
“Into the wall,” Wor Wobniar said, and the three of them stepped forward.
INTERLUDE II
Old Hiding Places
- The Nether has a defined floor which cannot be altered. As the walls are impenetrable, so is its base. However, there is a larger accumulation of dirt than most people think. Many do not know of the elaborate tunnel structures existing below Gloomlight, nor of the caves, several hundred feet deep, below a certain estate near the outskirts of the Imperium.
From a report by Morvu Francita Januti, Etanela explorer and big game hunter.
“I remember this place, Mandamon,” Gompt said. “It’s right near where the old Society mansion used to stand.” He was perched on Krat, as usual, squinting in the light from the walls. It was tenth lightening, when they were at maximum brightness. “Tell me that Sathssn couple doesn’t still live here. They’d be, what, pushing ninety cycles? Sathssn rarely live that long.”
“They are not here,” Mandamon told his old friend, and raised his voice so the rest of the group could hear. It had grown large in the last few ten-days.
He, Gompt, Laryn I’Hon, and Touching Digits had been busy talking to old friends and using long-dormant connections to locate the others gathered here. Their little gathering now had twelv
e additional maji. Five of them were his age or older, remnants of the original Society: two more Methiemum, an Etanela, one Sureriaj female, and another Lobath.
The seven younger ones were the future. Barring the Etanela, Yutirei Janerea Retina, who might live another fifty cycles or more, the rest of them were getting on. It was important to pass on the good the Society had done, rather than focusing on its deficits. He’d start that today.
Over the last two days, he’d given the growing group of maji directions to an intersection of two streets in Poler. This afternoon they’d drifted here, in ones and twos.
“However, the couple’s handiwork is here,” he continued in a louder voice, so everyone could hear. “This house has seemingly been abandoned for cycles, though no one else bought the land, or even squatted on the property. Why?”
“I will give you the answer,” Mandamon said, and pushed the door open. It wasn’t locked.
Inside, Mandamon lowered himself down with a wince into one of the chairs he’d placed in a circle, surrounding a little table. He wasn’t young, by any stretch of the imagination. Maybe not too old for this last project, though. If the troubling coincidences were really coming to a head, he had little time.
He looked around while the others settled themselves. The old house was unchanged from his last visit, and for many cycles before that. His first encounter had been when he was young, meeting the original occupants with Gompt. Later, he had come back to search for what he would soon show the group. The couple’s son, Essra, had lived here for several cycles, or at least that was the front he put up. When Mandamon paid him a surprise visit, he had caught the Sathssn in the lie. The Life Coalition’s resurgence had been…unanticipated. Harha and Slitho, the owners of this house, had told him and Gompt about their organization, but back then it was a small group, devoted to peace between species. It had transformed, or revealed its real purpose, in the cycles between then and now. If Majus Ayama had only known the name of the organization she’d been investigating when she first informed them of the voids, he would have paid more attention. Too late now, though he was very familiar with the Life Coalition. Another reason for him to act outside the purview of the Council.
“So we are in an abandoned house. If there is no one here, then why are we?” Laryn said, before zie sat. Zie trailed a long-fingered hand over hir dusty chair, though it was a stretch to call it that. It was a section of tree trunk, roughly sawn. All the furniture was the same—simply made with the least change possible to the original materials. Even the paneling on the walls was nothing more than planks cut from fallen trees.
“There is a very specific reason I’ve brought you here,” Mandamon answered. “Every house of the maji is covered at least twice, and you come from all disciplines, new and old, from ones who work in technology and innovation, to ones concerned with social sciences and aid. I have sought out each of you individually.”
“And we’ll be wondering why until you stop yanking us around and tell us,” said Gompt. Mandamon frowned. His old friend couldn’t stand a solemn ceremony.
There was one more he would have liked to add to their group, a member of the Houses of Communication and Power. Origon Cyrysi was a good pick for the new Society—able and inquisitive, if a bit grating—but Mandamon had cautioned the others from contacting him. He’d long been watching the Kirian, but his involvement with Rilan Ayama would shed too much unwanted light on what he was doing here. Later, when it was public, he’d extend an invitation. Origon had been a child when the Society fell, and there had never been a good time to bring him in. Kratitha had worked with him once in defending her home hive, and vouched for his skills.
So. Sixteen maji and one sentient System Beast were an adequate start for two ten-days of work. There were others who might join later, but it was enough to start.
“Some of you know this already, but most have heard only hints. I consider this gathering to be the first of the new Society of Two Houses.” Mandamon looked around for reactions. Confused looks from the young ones, knowing ones from those older. As it should be.
“The Society—the last iteration of it—was disbanded fifty cycles ago. My mentor Moortlin led it. They kept the Society’s practices secret through their long life, though the inventions and discoveries benefitted the technological progression of the Assembly. Moortlin even instituted a geas, devised by a majus long dead, which kept members from even hinting at their affiliation.”
“This, it seems excessive,” said one of the new members—a Sathssn with her cowl back and hands ungloved, her inquisitive red eyes searching for answers in Mandamon’s words.
He ducked his head. “It was. And it led to the downfall of the organization. I intend to make this version public, directly after we finish our first project. Its success will guarantee the Society’s standing as an influential force.” He paused a moment, looking around the group. “If anyone does not wish to be a part of this, now is the time to say so.”
No one spoke.
“Very well,” he said. “How many of you have heard of the Dissolution?”
A few of the younger maji chuckled. One Methiemum majus whose name he hadn’t caught, hardly older than an apprentice, turned to his companion and whispered in her ear. She was named Emma something. She giggled. Well, he might have been flippant when he was their age, but then, at that age he had also been a member of the Society, putting together the proposal for development of the System Beasts.
“I am serious,” Mandamon said. He’d anticipated this response. The Dissolution was not often spoken of.
“It’s a night-tale,” Gompt said. He’d complained about it whenever Mandamon brought it up, and Mandamon gave the old Festuour a glare. Undermining his credibility wasn’t helping. He’d talk to Gompt about it later.
“Probability of truth is very low,” Krat added. “Scant existing evidence.”
“Oh, it is true,” Mandamon continued. The giggling Methiemum were watching him now, their smiles replaced by frowns, as were the rest of the group. He’d led classes of people older than the average age in this group. “No one knows exactly what the Dissolution is, save a time of significant change.” He waved a gnarled hand at the others watching him. “You may laugh at the thought, but don’t tell me you haven’t heard of it.” A few heads nodded. “For a fiction, it is highly persistent, yet our culture has forgotten most facts about a war that consumed our very civilization. The Dissolution was many centuries before that. Why is it remembered?”
Now there were questioning faces. Laryn looked surprised, but then Lobath often did.
“I have put together scraps of parchments, rumors, and plain guesswork over the cycles. I have access to the collected information of the maji, on the Council of the Maji, and of the Society, through my mentor, yet traces are scarce.”
He sat forward, rubbing his aching knees. He’d done too much walking today. “From what I can tell, in the Dissolution the entire universe is reconfigured. Is it destroyed? Is it recreated? That, I do not know. But it is changed in fundamental ways, and I will be prepared for it. That is why we are here.”
Moortlin had passed on what research they had gathered, before they went back to Aben to plant themself. It was one of hundreds of files the paranoid old Benish kept on potential threats to the ten species.
“Uncertain,” Mandamon answered the Lobhl, “though I t
hink our species have a chance of living on. I believe the Dissolution will affect all creatures everywhere, though how, when, and where—” he spread his hands. “It has happened before, and I think there must have been maji then. There is evidence to support that they protected the rest of their people.”
“You will do same thing?” Krat asked, her mechanical voice crackling monotonously. “Protect ten species?”
“We will.” Mandamon waved one gnarled hand to indicate those in their little circle. “I have identified this place as conducive to create a shelter against the changes of the Dissolution, using the combined technological and Symphonic efforts of two-house maji. I intend this Society of Two Houses to protect against incursions that ordinary people, and even the majority of maji, cannot resist.”
There was muttering in the group. The Sathssn darted glances around the room. She would be familiar with this type of construction. The two Methiemum had their heads together, and a Lobath and a Festuour next to them traded glances. He’d held himself aloof from the maji the others gathered, preparing for this meeting. He’d get to know all of them soon enough.
“This is a lofty goal, Mandamon,” Gompt said. “Are you reaching for the stars when you can’t yet reach the top shelf? The old Society—” the old Festuour paused and looked around, but the geas keeping them from speaking of it no longer functioned. “The old Society did nothing like this. We were just a bunch of outcasts trying to keep busy.”
“Not completely true,” Krat crackled. Gompt frowned down at the contraption that moved him around. Krat danced back and forth on metal and wood legs, clacking on the floor. If Mandamon had to guess, he would have said Krat was nervous.
“Her, what does she mean?” the Sathssn asked. The rest of the group wasn’t as comfortable with Krat’s sentience as Gompt and Mandamon, who had worked with System Beasts for over fifty cycles.
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