The Star Whorl (The Totality Cycles Book 1) (18 page)

     Pa-Kreceno’Tiv could not
think of a glyph to express his tired shock. She thought their stewardship tyrannical?

     “Brave child,” Vespa Kareni’Tiv
said, and there was a touch of wonder in her voice. “So you risked all to come
here, to find a way to be rid of us. But you need only ask, child. We are not
dictators. However, remember, in distant times, your world was wracked by war
and strife, before we came. Neighbor killed neighbor, and the power-lusting
among you ravaged the weak, killed and raped and pillaged and plundered. Have
the people of Hereta outgrown those things?”

     “Why should you be concerned
that our people do so?!” Okon demanded hotly. “Gods or no...!”

     “It concerns us very much,” Vespa
Kareni’Tiv said sternly, “because you use ‘magic’ to do it. We will not let
magic be debased so. What happens if one of those power-lusting ravagers from
Hereta found a way to go beyond your world? What suffering and death would they
bring to others? Use of Nil’Gu’vua is a precious responsibility, not a right,
as you can see my son has learned this turn. Had he ill intent, what do you
think he could have done to you?”

Whorl Fifty Four

     Pa-Kreceno’Tiv forced his
eyes open again, stared up at his mother. Her face was serious, and not in the
least patronizing. Okon scowled, not able to give a good answer.

     “We ourselves, were once
preyed upon by those of our kind who lusted for power over all,” Vespa Kareni’Tiv
said, raising a vuu-brow. “We suffered greatly, and peoples such as yours
suffered more. We take this responsibility seriously. But your point is well-made,
Okon of Hereta. We will assess your people’s readiness to govern themselves.
And if they are truly ready, then one such as you may join the Solidarim Xenus,
as a representative of your people. Now come, let us return you to your home.
Your parents must worry as much as we worry over our son.”

     “I have no parents to worry
over me,” Okon muttered, not letting go. “But you will not deter me! I
will
find a spell to vanquish you, I will! Banishing me will not work forever!”

     His mother stopped at that,
in the middle of rising to her feet. She seemed to consider, then straightened,
looked at her mate.

     Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv
stepped forward. “If you are an orphan, and no famiya ties you to Hereta – would
you like to study among us, to learn responsible governance?” he asked,
crouching so that he did not tower over Okon.

     She looked suspiciously from
one to the other. “How do I know this is not a trick to keep me from finding
the spell I want?” she said, paradoxically crouching closer, as if Pa-Kreceno’Tiv
were protection against others of his people. “Your son is bound to help me, he
offered! I accepted! He is bound!”

    
What have I done?
he
wondered, only half-understanding the mythos that the child was laboring under.
He groaned and struggled to sit up, and Okon moved with him, still keeping him
between herself and his parents.

     “The best help I can offer
you is knowledge,” he said, and his voice was gravelly. “Knowledge is what you
came seeking, is it not? But knowledge always comes with strictures,
conditions. I violated some of those, and it hurt me.” Was it right, to
perpetuate this myth of divinity? But if he dispelled it, Okon might come to
harm. He found that it more than greatly disturbed him to think in such ways,
that his parents would send a child to some horrible fate to maintain order on
her world.
Are we stewards, in truth? Do we have the right to take such a
role? Or was it thrust upon us, the need giving rise to the responsibility?
I’ll have to research this.

     Okon turned her strange,
dark brown eyes to him, and he saw the beginnings of feelings of betrayal.

     “I will help you,” he said,
reassuringly. “But think on this. You are young, small, though clever and
powerful. What if you went back with the spell you wanted, banish us, and then
someone forces this knowledge from you? What suffering and chaos will that
bring to your people? We would be gone, and the times of blood and killing
would return to Hereta. Is that what you want?”

     Tears filled Okon’s eyes
again. “This is a trick,” she said, beginning to draw away. “I know Travel Gods
are tricky! You mean to cheat me of what I need, to send me back, powerless and
at the mercy of those who would exploit me! But you offered help, Travel God,
and your offer binds you! What would happen to you if you broke your own
honor?”

    
Nothing,
he thought,
at
least, not to me, directly.
The far-reaching consequences, and political
reverberations, however, he did not have the strength to contemplate.

     “Tell me what you want me to
do,” he said, wearily. “I offered help, so I will help you. But sometimes what
you want will not always give you the result you intend.”

Whorl Fifty Five

     “I want the power of the
Travel Gods to liberate my world, and to keep other power-lusters from...!”
Okon began to say, with conviction, but then she hesitated, as if something
occurred to her that she did not like. She looked around at all of them, then
got up and moved away, crouching again. “You have confused me, now,” she
groused, folding her arms. “I knew what I wanted when I came here! I want to
rid Hereta of you, I want to make our world ours! But – I want to keep the bad
people from hurting others, from hurting those who can’t fight for themselves.
But your words make me think that that makes me sound like – like a
power-luster! But I’m not, I’m not, I just want my people to be free!”

     “Free
and
safe,” Vespa
Kareni’Tiv said, an implied question in her tone.

     Okon scowled. “We can have
both! Free to use our magic as we wish, and still safe from the power-lusters!
You won’t convince me that those two things cannot exist together! Who governs
you
to keep you from harming the helpless? What of me, when I came here, and
hundreds of Travel Gods grabbed me and...!”

     Vespa Kareni’Tiv and Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv
waited for her to finish. She had risen to her feet in the middle of her
exposition, but again she stopped short, as if she searched for the words and
glyphs to express her feelings. Was she thinking over what had befallen her,
being frightened by the overly curious? Had she truly been harmed by the
indolent population that had cornered her?

    
But harm comes in many
forms,
Pa-Kreceno’Tiv thought gratingly.
Even being studied too closely
by too many people can feel like molestation. And what about the sentients on
display in the Bustani? Does that not injure them in some way, if only their
dignity?

     She lowered her hand and
dropped her eyes. “They treated me like a thing,” she said bitterly. “A thing
to poke and pull at. And you have both, both security and freedom of use of
your magic! Do we need to be Gods to have both?”

     “Such as we are, we have had
time to learn, to mature,” Vespa Kareni’Tiv said, gesturing. “Give your people
time. If you fear a return of the times of chaos, then you know, in your inner-most
self, that your people aren’t ready. In the meantime, the offer to learn was
genuine, not a trick. And our son is still bound to aid you. If you think
yourself confined unjustly, he is bound to help you, and he will honor that. Does
that satisfy you, at least for now?”

     Pa-Kreceno’Tiv looked at
Okon. She was a very bright child, forced to grow up before her time, and with
very definite ideas and goals. She was brave, too, coming to a strange world by
herself, in order to liberate her home. He found himself admiring her,
marveling at the person she would become. When she grew up, she would be
formidable.

     He projected to his mother
the desire that she fabricate a token that he could give to Okon, and held up
his hand. A disk of chitin, matching his neutral markings, appeared in his
palm. It had engravings on it, and there was a single link to his dataSphere
connected to it, so that if Okon needed to call him, he would receive it.

     “Here,” he said, holding it
out to her, though it felt as if his arm weighed as much as an ancient hive.
“This will let you contact me. Though I may not be able to answer immediately,
I
will
answer.”

     Okon took it, looked it
over, then glanced at him to see what part of him it had come from. Trusting in
Vespa Kareni’Tiv to complete the illusion, and feeling a little self-disgust as
he did so, he turned his shoulder to show her his elytra-pace, and he was sure
that she would see what looked like a piece excised, in the shape and size of
the disk. There was a shiny ribbon attached to it, and she hesitantly put it on
over her head. Then she made a gesture that he assumed was agreement.

     “Come, Okon,” Vespa Kareni’Tiv
gestured, and the girl reluctantly walked over to his mother and took her hand,
her other hand clutched tight around the medallion. Once they left, Pa-Kreceno’Tiv
flopped back down to the floor and closed his eyes again. He felt his father’s
and Ro-Becilo’Ran’s hands lift him up and deposit him on his resting pad, and
then he knew nothing more.

Whorl Fifty Six

     Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv was
sitting at his study-station, when Pa-Kreceno’Tiv woke again, his head hurting
just as much as before. He groaned and held his aching cranium, though he made
an attempt to sit up.

     His father came over and
gave him an analgesic, while pressing him back down. He did not resist, but waited
to hear his punishment for what he had done.

     “You did well,” Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv
said, and he turned his head too fast in surprise, making the pain slash bright
and sharp across his vision. He suppressed the moan it dredged up. A glyph
surrounded him, gently suppressing the pain.

     “Father,” he said, squinting
at him, but Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv gestured him quiet.

     “Pa-Kreceno’Tiv, there is
much we need to discuss, not the least of which was your unauthorized use of
the travel-glyph, but – in the situation with the Heretian child, you played
your role magnificently.”

    
How dare we set ourselves
up as deities?!
he wanted to demand hotly, despite the trouble he was in.
But he kept the thought to himself, just gazed at his father.

     “I know what you’re
thinking, your face expresses it all,” Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv said, raising a
vuu-brow. It was a very gentle admonishment that he would have to learn to govern
his expression in the future. “As I said, we will discuss it. As to your
actions – do you care to explain?”

     Pa-Kreceno’Tiv sighed. “I
sensed something on the way home,” he said, “a wish to be hidden, concealed. I
went back to investigate, by transport, and Becil – Ro-Becilo’Ran, who had
noticed that I had noticed something, followed me. But the indolent mobs were
too thick, and we had to leave before we could get to what I had sensed. He
took images, and when we got back, I used them to let us travel back to the
place. The child, Okon, was there.” He knew his father would be able to read
all the nuances of the tale, so he stopped.

     “And –
you
successfully
modified the travel glyph, not Ro-Becilo’Ran,” Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv
clarified, overtly.

     Knowing it would get him
into a hive of trouble, he gestured assent. “Becilo’Ran is not taking the
Long-Travel lecture.”

     “You modified a
Long-Travel
glyph?” There was actual surprise in his father’s voice. Pa-Kreceno’Tiv
looked askance at him. But Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv offered no explanation. “And
how did you keep everyone within the Mji’Hive, including
us
, from
knowing you were doing?” his father asked, some unnamable, viscous force in his
voice.

     Pa-Kreceno’Tiv moved
uncomfortably, and everything protested. “I – I veiled it,” he admitted with an
inward cringe. Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv’s face stilled, and the weight of his
gaze made Pa-Kreceno’Tiv want to squirm with discomfiture.

     “Rest,” his father said
finally, standing. “I’ll bring you food in a bit. Rest for now. Repercussions
come later.”

     With that cheerful thought,
his father left him to tiredly wonder.

Whorl Fifty Seven

     Pa-Kreceno’Tiv woke in the
dark. He Nil-ized the lights in his suite, sat up, winced. His head still
resounded with pain, and he could barely move his vuu’erio tennae. Hunger
gnawed at him, so he made his careful way down to the food preparation area,
and found a couple of covered platters waiting for him. He had barely uncovered
each when they were emptied, and he did not even taste what was on them.

     “Pa-Kreceno’Tiv,” his mother
called, and all of the food he had consumed turned to stones in his stomach.
“Come here, please.”

     Swallowing, he made his way
to the salon, where both of his parents were waiting. He sat gingerly across
from them, trying not to grunt in pain.

     “Your father tells me that
you... modified a Long-Travel glyph into a short-travel glyph,” she said. “And
that you veiled it from public perception.”

     He projected contrition. “I
know it’s illegal, but...”

     Vespa Kareni’Tiv waved that
away. “It was only outlawed to try to save the waning transport industry,” she
said. “However, once the Unveiling happened, it became moot, because everyone
could formulate their own transport glyph. And veiling it – well, considering
what could have happened, had anyone else perceived what you were doing, it’s a
good thing that you hid it so successfully. That is not why we are upset.”

     He decided not to try to
explain further, but just to listen.

     “The reason it is so
dangerous is that, if you are not versed in its implementation, and you try to
take someone with you, as you took Ro-Becilo’Ran, the results can be –
horrible. And irreparable. You got lucky, that you did not inadvertently
combine your glyph with his, in the travel-glyph, going to the place you found
the Heretian child.”