Changer (Athanor) (81 page)

When he has finished, various hands fly up.  Arthur recognizes one at random. “Smith?”

“Changer, why did you bring your charges against Sven alone?  Louhi seems to have done her share, and this Head, if he is as intelligent as he claimed yesterday, knew what was going on.”

“I knew from the scent that Sven had carried away my daughter.  He made the phone call.  I would like the others to be punished for their roles, but I have no proof that they were not merely his tools.  He has a special talent for using others.”

Louhi colors, but she is smart enough not to protest and thus condemn herself.  The Head also keeps his peace.

Arthur recognizes Bronson.

“Changer, could you clarify Shahrazad’s position regarding the Harmony?  We were not at the Lustrum Review.”

“Shahrazad is my daughter by a coyote who was murdered this last May.”  Mutters of surprise and consternation rise, but the Changer is permitted to continue uninterrupted.  “I brought her with me to the Review.  During the Harmony Dance, she surprised me by joining the Dance.”

Bronson asks, “But you did not have her recognized then?”

“No,” the Changer says.  “She is a young thing.  I thought that there would be time enough when she had avoided the things that kill little wild creatures.”

Frank MacDonald is recognized.  “Changer, if you didn’t know she was in Harmony, why did you bring her with you?”

“I am her father,” the Changer says simply.  “A coyote parent raises a pup for the first six months of its life.  My business in Albuquerque did not discharge my responsibility.”

The Head raises his hand.  “Do you believe, Changer, that Sven Trout knew that Shahrazad was in Harmony?”

“He was at the Dance,” the Changer says simply.  “All who were there saw her join in.”

Chris can tell that the crowd is becoming angry.  He looks questioningly at their guide.

Rebecca whispers, “Many athanor are sterile.  Most athanor children do not inherit our gifts.  A new athanor, no matter what shape or type, is a blessing to the Harmony as a whole.”

When there are no further questions for the Changer, Arthur calls Sven to the podium.

“What do you have to say that might mitigate the right the Changer has to claim restitution from you?”

Instead of speaking in his defense, Sven Trout begins to laugh.  It is a loud laugh, a belly laugh, and he laughs until the tears run down his face.

“You have me, don’t you, Arthur Pendragon?  I came here to challenge you, and now, through this little courtroom drama, you have turned me from a serious contender to a cringing criminal begging for the mercy of the court.”

Arthur begins to speak, but Sven waves him down with the hand that isn’t wiping his streaming eyes.

“Don’t deny it, Arthur, my dear.  It’s all over you.  Why else bring this matter up in front of the whole assembly?”

The Changer says from his seat, “I asked for restitution and for my complaint to be heard first.  I thought that those who had followed you should know about your deals.”

Sven looks at him, laughter fading as he sees the ancient shapeshifter’s single yellow eye upon him.  “Well, Changer, you’re getting your restitution.  You’ve ruined my reputation.”

Anson calls out, “That’s not much, eh, Changer?”

The Changer says dryly, “This is not all that I want, Sven.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Sven persists, “but while I have the podium, I am left with a few questions.”

He looks to where Louhi rests her hand lightly on the Head’s thigh.  She smiles a sweet, sleepy smile.

“One question is just how far I should rat on my associates.  I’m not good at taking a fall on my own, and I’m ruined anyhow.  But before I get to that, what I want to know is, why is Arthur always left on top?”

Sven spreads his arms in a broad, appealing gesture.  “How many of those of us who have mingled in human society have left so many enduring legends behind us?  Arthur is Gilgamesh, Akhenaten, Rama, Frey, and, of course, Arthur Pendragon.  Isn’t it strange that the athanor who has most actively advocated our hiding ourselves away from the humans is the one who lives over and over again in their memories?”

Arthur answers gruffly, “Over and over again, I have failed, Sven.  My immortality is a legend of lost causes.  In those societies where physical memorials could not be escaped, such as in Egypt, I distorted my physical resemblance.  Did you think I liked being portrayed as an emaciated, long-jawed hunchback?”

“I bet that your daughters and Nefertiti liked the art even less,” Sven says caustically, “but I forget, they weren’t really
your
daughters, not like the Changer’s little coyote bitch.”

He smiles sweetly.  “That is the proper term, isn’t it?  And as to that art, Arthur, didn’t it guarantee your being remembered?  Everyone who knows anything about Egyptology remembers the unusual representational art of Tel el Amarna.  Everyone remembers their heroic king who tried to substitute a kind monotheism for the dictatorship of the priest-kings.”

“Would I immortalize a failure?” Arthur protests.

“Some people prefer tragedy to comedy,” Sven says.  “Perhaps you enjoy being the tragic hero remembered through the ages—valiant, unlucky in love, struggling against the odds to establish kingdoms of virtue and…”

“Enough!” Eddie bellows.  “You are on trial for your crimes against the Changer.  Stop campaigning!”

“Why?” Sven retorts blithely.  “I need all the votes I can get.”

Eddie paces from behind the table toward the podium: “Votes may be what you need, Sven, but I can ask a few awkward questions, if you wish.  Can you swear under a truthstone that you did not come to my hospital room and try to kill me?  Can you swear that you did not create the circumstances for the accident that put me in the hospital in the first place?”

Sven smiles charmingly.  “I don’t think I’d better answer those questions.  And maybe you don’t want to ask them.”

From where she sits, Vera says softly, “That sounds rather like a threat to me.”

Sven’s smile becomes vaguely snide.

“Your Majesty!  Your Majesty!”

Chris and Bill watch in silence as the assembled athanor wave their hands in the air, one after another raising various complaints they hold against the red-haired trickster.  Much refers to events they’ve never heard of, but it’s clear that Sven doesn’t have many friends among his peers—and equally clear that he doesn’t particularly deserve them.

At last, the attorney Jonathan Wong raises his hand and is recognized: “Your Majesty, I have been privately asked by a number of those gathered here to present a motion that Sven be ruled both out of Accord and out of Harmony.”

Even the humans realize the import of this request.

“Both?” Arthur says sternly, cocking an eyebrow.  Ruling a member out of Accord—often for a limited period of time, the sentence to be reviewed thereafter—is considered a strict but standard penalty.  Ruling someone out of Harmony is a much more serious punishment and is often irrevocable—for once separated from the sustaining force of the Harmony, the criminal dies.

“Yes, Your Majesty.  Both.”

“I cannot deal with two such penalties in tandem,” Arthur says.  “They must be dealt with separately.”

“Very well.  That is acceptable.”

Jonathan’s motion is seconded and passed.

Anson A. Kridd, who has himself been ruled out of Accord several times, raises his hand.  “I’d also like to suggest that the same penalties be considered for Louhi and the Head.”

“Again, I must insist that the penalties be dealt with separately,” Arthur says.

“I can adapt my motion to that,” Anson agrees.

This motion, too, is seconded and passed.

The next day, Rebecca Trapper walks out into the Pendragon Estate grounds with Chris, Bill, and Demetrios.

“Rebecca, you don’t look very happy,” Demetrios says.  “Are you annoyed that this business has interrupted our agenda?”

“No!”  She looks shocked.  “These are serious matters.  I’m still adjusting to the fact that our Moderator is Sven Trout—and the things he did, the deals he made, to advance our cause.”

“His cause.”

“Yes.  I suppose so.  What he did doesn’t change the fact that much of what he said was right.  I don’t want to go back to hiding in the woods.”

“I know,” Demetrios says, putting a reassuring hand on her arm.  “And Arthur will listen to us.”

Bill laughs nervously.  “I sure hope so.  I don’t want to be on trial next.”

“You won’t be,” Demetrios says.

“Good.”  Bill relaxes, only to stiffen at Demi’s next words.

“You aren’t an athanor.  Humans don’t get trials.”

“I’m surprised,” Chris says bravely.  “You seem like a very judicial group.”

“Taking someone out of Harmony is a serious matter,” Demetrios explains.  “It affects each athanor.”

Rebecca frowns.  “Bronson said the same thing, but I don’t understand.  Not really.”

“Rebecca, Harmony is what makes us immortal; it is what rejuvenates us.  Harmony grows more powerful according to our numbers.  That is why we rejoice when a child is born.”

“But, Demi, no one is censuring the Changer and Anson for killing Isidro and Oswaldo,” Rebecca says, referring to events that had been debated at great length earlier.  “Didn’t their deaths reduce Harmony?”

“They did, but the Changer and Anson had no choice.  They acted in self-defense and have sworn so under a truthstone.”

“Yes, I saw.”  Rebecca sounds almost sulky.  “I still think they could have knocked them out or something.”

“Maybe so, Becky, but we weren’t there.  In any case, the loss of Isidro and Oswaldo is minor to what we would suffer if we were to lose Sven or one of his allies.”

“What?”  The sasquatch looks surprised and startled.

“You have yet to live through a time when we lose many of those in Harmony,” Demetrios says,  “or you would better understand.  The closest you came was in World War II during the bombings.  Even then, we lost comparatively few athanor.  Most of our people fled.”

“We do that a lot, don’t we?”

“Rebecca…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Now all of you listen to this old faun.  Not only is Harmony diminished by the loss of any of our number, the loss of an old one costs us more than the loss of a younger one.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  Your Bronson is probably worth both you and me.  The Changer…  Some say he is the oldest of us all.  Why do you think we give so much deference to those we term ancient?”

Rebecca shrugs.  “I thought it was just good manners, like with the Chinese.  The older ones
do
know more.”

Demetrios pats her, a gesture that could be ludicrous given the differences in their sizes, but is not.

“Now can you understand why taking these three members out of Harmony is such a serious matter?  Truly we are diminished by the loss of anyone, but three such…  Sven was present for Ragnarokk.  If the Head has been in Harmony since its creation, which I think is likely, he is almost as old.  Louhi is the youngest, but even she is millennia-old.  Our late, lamented South Americans could not claim even Louhi’s years between them.”

“I don’t like what I’m learning,” Rebecca admits.  “What do you think will happen?”

“I think that all three will be ruled out of Accord.  I think that Sven will also be ruled out of Harmony.”

Rebecca nods stiffly, clearly frightened by his bluntness as she had not been by the detached parliamentary procedure.

Demetrios continues, “The Head is making a good claim for relative ignorance—the only one who says otherwise is Sven, and he’s not exactly trusted.”

Rebecca takes up the thread.  “Louhi…  She’s so cold.  What she did to the Changer was terribly cruel, but with Garrett testifying that he can reverse the effects of her spell, even if she will not, and her testimony that she acted for the Head’s own good…  They won’t kill her for that, will they?”

“
We
won’t,” Demetrios says quietly, firmly.  “Remember, in these matters the Harmony is a true democracy.  One reason these proceedings are taking so long is that an effort is being made to contact everyone from the unicorns in their secret valleys to the least bunyip in the Antipodes.”

“And when that voting is done, Sven will die.”  Rebecca wrings her hands.  “I don’t even like him, and I’m afraid for him.  Why doesn’t he flee?”

“It won’t matter,” Demetrios answers.  “When he is severed from Harmony, wherever he is, the effects will reach him.”

“I’d be terrified!”

“So, I expect, is he.”