House of the Sun (36 page)
I snorted. "Look, I'm not in the mood for sophomoric philosophy, okay?" I snapped. "Cut to the fragging chase."
The Insect shaman paused, then nodded. "The Hawai'ian Islands have several sites of power," he said quietly. "Puowaina, Haleakala, Honaunau Bay . .. among others. There are ways to draw mana from those sites, for those with the knowledge, and the willingness to pay the price.
"There are those who wish to use those sites for their own purposes," he went on. "They consider those sites to be like motherlodes of mana, from which they can draw magical energy."
"I didn't think that was possible," I put in.
"For most mages or shamans, it isn't," he confirmed. "But there are ancient techniques that allow it. They're complex, though, and they're time-consuming. And they all carry with them a significant risk."
"What risk?"
"Power of any kind has to come from
somewhere
," the shaman said. "Within the Gaiasphere, it's generated by living material—by the 'biomass' itself. Certain sites of power, though, are like conduits to other"—he paused in thought—"other
places."
he continued carefully. "Mana can be drawn through those conduits."
I nodded. This suddenly seemed to be making at least some sense. To some degree it was tying in with the thoughts I'd had when I'd visited the sacrifice site in Punchbowl. "I scan it," I said. "You don't want these slags to get their mitts on all this power, is that it?"
The shaman shook his head firmly. "That wouldn't be a concern. On a local level the amount of power available is considerable. On a more global scale, however, it's insignificant."
"Tacnukes as compared to city-buster ICBMs?" I suggested sarcastically, thinking of Chicago.
He surprised me by nodding. "A reasonable analogy. But that's not the concern." Oh,
really
? I thought. "The issue is that the . . . the
places
from which the mana comes . . ." He trailed off, as if seeking just the right word.
"They're occupied, aren't they?" The words were out of my mouth before I was even fully aware of the thought process behind them. Chilling—and even more so when the Insect shaman nodded agreement.
"There are certain
entities
in these other places," he agreed judiciously. "The same barrier that prevents the free flow of mana also denies them access to the Gaiasphere."
"And if you weaken that barrier enough to suck through the mana ... ?" It was my turn to trail off.
His silence was enough of an answer.
"What are these 'entities'?" I wanted to know.
The shaman shrugged. "Their exact nature varies unpredictable It's enough to say that nobody would be well-served should they be able to penetrate the barrier."
Something just didn't hang together here. "This is bull-drek," I said slowly. "What about the slags who are trying to siphon the power? Don't they know about these entities?"
"They know."
"And they're still doing it?"
"Perhaps they think they can control the entities," the gray-faced man said, "or possibly block them once the barrier is weakened. They're wrong, in both cases. The entities will overwhelm them or suborn them ... if that hasn't occurred already."
I held up my palms to stop him. "Okay, time out, let's see if I get this. Somewhere, in some volcano somewhere, there's going to be a shaman slotting around with this barrier thing—"
"More than one shaman is necessary," the gray-faced guy put in. "There are forces of stability that naturally counter any premature weakening of the barrier. Those forces must be overcome."
Premature?
Interesting word. I'd think about that later.
'"Okay, amendment noted. So a whole drekload of shamans are slotting around with the barrier, trying to siphon in some mana. And instead of power, what they'll get is this cosmic nasty that'll . . . what? What'll happen?"
"Suffering," the shaman said, his voice sounding cold and distant. "Death. Devastation. Initially limited to the islands, but believe me, it will spread."
I nodded as if I understood. "And this cosmic nasty's going to make life drekky for you guys too, I assume?"
His eyebrows rose. "Members of the Hive? No," he said firmly. "The entities that come through won't waste any efforts on us. Not until more convenient prey is no longer available."
I didn't like the sound of that at all ... if I believed this miserable slag, of course. And did I? The jury was still out. "Uh-huh," I said neutrally. Then I leaned in close and poked him in the chest with my finger. "Then why the frag are you telling me this, huh? The way you're talking, it sounds like this is going to be no skin—or chitin or whatever—off your hoop. So why bother? Why not just sit back and watch the fragging fun?" My rage was back, a cold fire burning in my chest. I could feel my pulse pounding in my temples. "Hey, it'll probably be a pretty good fragging show, won't it? Maybe you'll pick up some pointers on how to spread suffering, death, and devastation, right?" I paused theatrically. "Or maybe that's the fragging point, huh? You don't want someone else pissing in your pool, is that it? Anyone the cosmic nasty scrags is one less for you to possess or kill or turn into a fragging monstrosity, right? Frag, you just don't want the
competition
!"
The shaman was totally unmoved. Flecks of my spittle glistened on his cheeks and forehead—I'd leaned in
real
close—but he didn't seem to notice or care. "Our intention isn't to spread death and suffering," he said quietly.
"Tell that to the people in Chicago
!
"
"It wasn't we who detonated the nuclear device," he responded calmly—and ail the more infuriatingly because he was right, of course. "All our actions were in self-defense."
"Yeah,
right,
they were!"
"You don't know us, Mr. Montgomery . . ."
"And I don't
want
to
!
" I spat back.
". . . But believe this if you can. We are not your enemy. We bear no ill-will toward metahumanity. Quite the opposite, in fact, as your sister can vouch."
"Don't you
mention
my sister, drekwipe
!
"
"Our goals and our agenda are our own," he went on, undismayed. "Sometimes they may conflict with yours; most of the time they're totally unconnected with yours. And sometimes—as in this case—our best interest and yours coincide."
"And I'm supposed to take that on faith, is that it?" I wanted to know.
"That's up to you," the shaman said simply.
I paused. My mind was in chaos, churning thoughts conflicting wildly with each other. I wished there was some god I could believe in, some Great Referee to whom I could yell "Time out
!
" No luck. The Insect shaman was still watching me with his glassy eyes and expressionless face. I couldn't remain angry at him, I found, not without some kind of response from him. It was like trying to hold a grudge against a footstool or a fragging doorstop. I sighed again. "Okay,
hoa
," I said quietly. "Just for the sake of argument, let's say I swallow the line you're feeding me. What then? What do you want from me?"
He answered at once. "Use your influence to stop this before it goes too far."
I laughed in his face.
"Influence
? Chummer, you've got the wrong slag here, let me tell you. I've got about as much influence as a fragging pawn in a chess game, as much as . . ." My imagination failed me, so I just waved my hands about eloquently. "Zilch, in other words. Zero. Zip. Null. Get me?"
"You have influence," he stressed. "You don't wish to acknowledge it for your own reasons, but you have it."
"Yeah,
right
," I snorted. "I'm as significant in this as tits on a bull."
"Oh?" The shaman's eyebrow rose again. "That's not how it seems to others, Mr. Montgomery." He glanced pointedly around the suite, his gaze settling in turn on each of the security personnel. "This isn't the residence of someone lacking in influence."
"Them? They're not following my orders. They're the
Ali'i's
people."
The shaman nodded. "And the
Ali'i
listens to what you have to say. You're significant in his interpretation of events. Otherwise, he wouldn't have arranged this meeting.
"The same with Yamatetsu Corporation," he pressed on firmly. "If someone listens to your words or follows your actions, then you have influence. And there are others, aren't there, Mr. Montgomery?" he asked. "There are others who consider you significant."
"To the extent of threatening to kill me, yeah," I said sarcastically.
"And that's to a significant extent indeed," the shaman shot back, "as you'll recognize if you'll only think about it. You don't warn off or threaten to kill someone without importance or without influence. You kill them, or you simply ignore them.
"You
have
influence," he concluded. "Use it."
"I don't know how."
"You will."
I narrowed my eyes. "You really expect me to help you on this?"
The shaman shrugged again. "You want this stopped," he stated, "we want it stopped. Is it really that difficult to understand?"
"So why don't you just"—I gestured vaguely, searching for the right word—"just
possess
me like you did Theresa? Then you wouldn't have to convince me, would you? I'd just follow orders like a good little drone."
Again, my scorn and anger just rolled off him. "That's not our way," he said quietly. "It must be voluntary ... on both sides. You must accept us, but we must also accept you."
"And I don't 'make the grade
'
?" The shaman didn't react in any way. So the bugs considered me 4F, did they? Thank God for small favors—if I could believe this slot, at least.
I stared out the window for a few moments. My eyes saw the scenery, but my brain didn't register it. More thoughts—fears, doubts, hopes, dreams—bubbled up from the swamp of my subconscious. I tried to sort through them, separate
reason from irrationality. Finally, I turned back to the shaman. "What's in it for me if I do it?" I asked.
He blinked. "The entities will be unable to penetrate the barrier," he said slowly. "They will be unable to prey on—"
I cut him off with a sharp gesture.
"No
. What's in it for
me!
Me personally?"
Again the shaman paused. "Payment, you mean?" His tone was confused, as if I'd asked him something he'd never had to consider before.
"More like
quid
pro
quo!"
I amended. "I do something that benefits you, you do something that benefits me.
Me
. Not metahumanity in general.
Me
. Get it?"
I watched his eyes as he tried to bend his brain around the thought. (Frag if I'd ever needed hard evidence that the Insect spirits were inhuman and alien in their outlook, this was it. The idea of bribery, a surprise? Cut me loose . . .) Finally, he nodded slowly. "Perhaps something can be arranged."
Roughly, I grabbed him by the shoulder, and I dragged him into a corner of the room. Away from the sec-guards, away from Akaku'aka nene. Away from Theresa. "I want
her
back," I whispered harshly, "My sister."
He blinked again. "What?"
"Look, it's simple. I do this for you, you give me my sister back.
Normal,
understand? The way she was, with her own thoughts and her own mind and her own soul. You reverse whatever the frag it is you did to her." I crossed my arms. 'That's my price."
The shaman's unblinking eyes were fixed on mine, as if he were trying to see into my mind. "Can we discuss this?" he asked at length.
"No negotiation," I whispered firmly. "That's it. You want me to do this? Then that's my price. You don't play ball, then I'll use whatever influence I've got to fuck you up, chummer. Anything you do to block these cosmic nasties, I'll throw a fucking wrench into it."
"But the entities—"
"Let
'em
come!
Doesn't matter squat to me if I don't get my sister back." I leaned in close again. "Scan me, bug-boy?"
He thought about it for a long time—two minutes maybe. It felt more like two hours. I could feel beads of sweat trickling down my spine, soaking the waistband of my trousers. It was all I could do to keep my knees from trembling.
Finally, he nodded once. "Your sister for your cooperation?"
"Yes."
"We have a deal?" I pressed.
"We have a deal."
I thanked whatever gods were listening that he didn't insist we shake hands.
Okay, I'd cut myself a deal. Now the question was, how the frag was I going to see my side of it through? (And how the hell could I be sure bug-boy was going to live up to his side? Save that worry for later, I told myself.) The Insect shaman could argue until he was blue in the tits that I had influence. Who knows, maybe he was right, speaking from his own twisted, nonhuman standpoint, but I didn't know how the frag I was going to use it.
Let's say he was right, that some shamans were going to jack around with this barrier—whatever the frag it was—in one of the sites of power in the islands. Fine, take that as a given.
