The Star Whorl (The Totality Cycles Book 1) Page 13

  “Doesn’t surprise me, he practically lives here!” came the rejoinder. “There is food in the cooking area, or you can glyph-conjure your own!”

  He grabbed the food, and led the way up to his suite, closed the entrance behind his friend. “So, how did you know that was my plan?” he asked, clearing a place on his floor to sit down.

  “In truth, you think I don’t know how you think after all the trouble we’ve gotten into, together?” Ro-Becilo’Ran chided, sitting opposite him. “There was no possibility of getting all the curious numb-paces out so you could go looking for whatever you saw earlier. So you were either going to risk them seeing whatever it was, or you were going to attempt to use what you had learned in your Long-Travel course, and you needed to see the inside of the place to have a target destination. So, here, I took some images for you.” He pulled his view-glyphographic out and began transferring the images to Pa-Kreceno’Tiv’s dataSphere.

  Pa-Kreceno’Tiv called up the images, a little disturbed that Ro-Becilo’Ran had thought up the idea that he would try before he had. It had occurred to him once he had left the building, but Ro-Becilo’Ran had taken the images before that.

  He laid the graphic down, projecting the image, and he engaged his vuu’erio tennae to his secondary retinas, to study the projection. There, faintly within it, was the partial glyph that represented the place-notion of it. The glyph kept shifting slightly, as he thought about it in different ways, so he firmed the idea of it in his mind – an abandoned place where people once worked, on the first level of the dark building. The glyph stabilized, only blurring occasionally. He called up a separate view, to project the truncated Long-Travel glyph. He hoped that he would be able to see how to modify the glyph to make it into a short-travel glyph. He made a duplicate of the Long-Travel glyph, stored the original away, and went back to studying the parts of the copy.

  “So... was what you saw still there?” Ro-Becilo’Ran asked quietly.

  “Yes,” he said shortly, beginning to modify the travel glyph, incorporating parts of the location glyph, and adding a few aspects of the glyph of hiding that he had sensed. The travel glyph resisted his manipulation at first, but he gently kept trying to add the modifications, adding new whorls and lines to make it into what he wanted. Suddenly it snapped into the configuration he was trying to form, and he realized that he was exhausted, just from that tiny feat. He began to eat, voraciously, only to find that more than half of the food was already gone.

  “Oh ha,” Ro-Becilo’Ran breathed, sitting back. “I didn’t really think you could do it! Well, if you can apply Nil’Gu’vua to it...!”

  Trying not to breath heavily, Kreceno’Tiv closed his eyes and engaged his vuu’erio to his tertiary retinas, seeing Nil’Gu’vua with his fully compound eyes, even through the lids. He pulled gently at the stuff of Nil’Gu’vua, formless potential, and wrapped it around his travel glyph, coaxing it to flow along the lines and whorls of it to give it potency. It iridesced, but nothing happened, and he tiredly realized that he had to add part of his own personal glyph to it. Opening his eyes, he saw the glowing glyph hovering before him, and Ro-Becilo’Ran’s incredulous face beyond it.

  “Did you add me?” his friend asked, just before he fully activated it. Gesturing annoyance, he added parts of Ro-Becilo’Ran’s glyph, also, and something told him to make sure that his and his friend’s glyphs remain separate and distinct. Then he realized that he needed the return glyph, or they would have to wrestle their way through the crowds again.

  He put the glyph in abeyance. Then he made another duplicate of the travel glyph, and made modifications for it to return here to his suite. It was easier, the second time, but he still felt as if he had run all the way to Secondus and back when he finished.

  “Here,” Ro-Becilo’Ran said, sliding a new platter to him. “You look like something dead, only half-Nil-ized. Eat.”

  He ate, then flopped back, lying on his floor as he waited for the calories to hit his blood. He wanted to hurry, before whatever it was went away, or someone else found it, but he could not make his body digest any faster, and had to wait until he felt strong enough to move. When he finally did, more than half a time-mark had passed, and his friend was patiently waiting for him to recover.

  He thought about the glyphs as he sat up, and made two minor modifications. Then he mustered his Nil’Gu’ua, and began applying Nil’Gu’vua to them. The stuff of Nil’Gu’vua resisted at first, this time, something that had never happened to him before. Puzzled, fatigued, he tried again and again, and the glyph brightened, but did not become active.

  What goes? he thought testily, feeling slightly foolish, and not quite able to think straight. Ro-Becilo’Ran wisely said nothing, just sat watching. Pa-Kreceno’Tiv engaged his secondary retinas to his vuu’erio tennae, and studied the glyph more closely, letting it decompose to its constituent parts in his semi-compound vision. It seemed to have all the elements needed – the short-time fixing matrix, the activator sub-glyph, the subjective and objective sub-glyphs – he just could not see why applying Nil’Gu’vua to it did not work. So he engaged his vuu’erio tennae to his tertiary retinas, letting his eyes go fully compound – and the answer jumped out at him. It was a travel glyph, meaning it affected the stuff of Nil’Gu’vua directly, changing its very nature to bring two points that were distant from each other to within close proximity and span the new, smaller separation between them – and to do so, Nil’Gu’vua was not applied to the glyph, the glyph was applied to Nil’Gu’vua.

  And how do I do that? he brooded, staring at his ineffectual creation. This had not been covered in his Long-Travel lecture, nor had he read about it in the text. They had no intention of teaching it, it was obvious – so he would have to figure it out, himself.

  Apply the glyph – how? There was a way, Vespa Ytoni’Dal had figured it out. And it had to be in such a way that no one else could perceive it – so it needed to be veiled. He took a deep breath and modified the glyph one more time, adding the illicit aspect of veiling, then moved it while just barely touching Nil’Gu’vua. He could see that it was affecting the stuff of Nil’Gu’vua a little, or rather, in a very small, localized region.

  It is basically a probability wave function of an event, he mused, trying to think through the fog building in his brain. The more region it encompasses, the greater the probability of the event coming to pass. So – inflate it to encompass as big a region as I can manage? Of course! It, in effect, has to encompass the two regions that have to be brought together! But – if that is the truth of it, how did they span the distance between Star Whorls?

  That was too much to think about. He took the glyph and made it bigger, then bigger, pushing it outward for as far as he could sense. His awareness seemed strangely tied to it, so that he could feel when the second region, the abandoned building, was within its effective radius. His suite blurred around them, then was gone in a flash.

  Whorl Fifty Two

  They ended up, not at the lower level they had seen, but in one of the upper levels, in a dark, dusty chamber.

  “Oh ha,” Ro-Becilo’Ran breathed, rocking on his feet. “By the Ancient Hives above. You did it! I didn’t think you could really do it! But you did!”

  Shaking his head to fight off an almost overwhelming wave of dizziness, he looked around for the hard wish to be concealed, and saw a – void area off to his right. Head throbbing, he moved toward it carefully, trying to project friendliness, calm, and a feeling of safety.

  “Come out, I won’t hurt you,” he said, stopping on the edge of the area.

  “Oh ha!” Ro-Becilo’Ran exclaimed, finally seeing the glyph-shaded area. “And you sensed this from the transport?!”

  “Come out,” Pa-Kreceno’Tiv coaxed, crouching by the area, ignoring the question. “I can sense you, so come out and let me help you.”

  “Why would anyone wish to hide up here?” his friend said, projecting confusion.

  Wanting to gesture exasperation, he look
ed back over his shoulder. “Becil, why don’t you go and make sure no one can hear or sense us? Carefully!” He turned back to the hidden person, who had not moved or banished the concealment glyph-construct. When the other did nothing for a couple of deci-marks, he reached out to the glyph itself and gently manipulated it, so that he could see through it without destroying it altogether.

  A soft cry and the wavering of the void area told of his success. A form came into focus, and he reared back in surprise.

  It was an other-worlder, a foreign sentient from one of the other worlds of the Star Whorl. She was small, though whether that was because she was young or merely of a tiny race, he was not sure. Was she one of the supposed sentients-on-display in the Bustani, somehow escaped or lost? She stared up at him with huge eyes, fear radiating from her in palpable waves. She had a high level of Nil’Gu’ua, he could tell, for the wave-glyph of repelling desire from her almost physically pushed him back.

  If she is from one of the other worlds, she may not understand our speech. He thought of trying to formulate a glyph of comprehension and project it at her, so that they could communicate verbally, but his mind was too tired. Instead, he projected a simple interrogative at her. Who are you? Why are you here?

  She just stared at him, and a tear gathered in one of her eyes and fell.

  “Becil,” he called softly, and was rewarded with his friend’s footsteps coming and he crouched at Pa-Kreceno’Tiv’s left.

  “What is it?” Ro-Becilo’Ran whispered, still unable to see her. Pa-Kreceno’Tiv modified the concealment glyph a little more, and Ro-Becilo’Ran actually fell back and scooted away a bit.

  “What in the name of the Ancient Hives?!” he exclaimed.

  “It’s all right, it’s just a little girl from one of the other sentient races,” he said. “I need you to enclose her in a glyph of comprehension so we can talk to her. Will you do that?”

  “Y-yes,” his friend said, and he could practically feel him fumbling around to form a language comprehension glyph. Finally it engaged the girl.

  “Who are you?” he asked, and her head snapped to him. Her eyes widened, and she blinked at him. “Why are you here? How did you get here? What can we do to help you?”

  “You – do not just ogle,” she whispered. “You offer help?”

  “Yes, of course,” Pa-Kreceno’Tiv said, gesturing confusion. He was having a little trouble thinking straight. “Why would I not?”

  “All the other Gods of Traveling just wanted to stare and pull at me and – and...” she began to cry, covering her face.

  Pa-Kreceno’Tiv felt a hard chill. “Did – did someone violate you?” he asked, and he did not recognize his own voice. Gods of Traveling? a distant corner of his mind thought, disturbed.

  She looked up at him, and laughed an angry laugh through her tears. “No, Traveling God, all of your fellow Gods just – turned me around and around, as if they had never seen anything like me and wanted to see every part of me. As if I were an insect to be studied!”

  That, he could understand happening. She was unusual-looking, mammalian without the chitinous extrusions such as elytra-pace or the head-plate that held the vuu’erio tennae. Her eyes were a dark brown, a shade unknown to the people of Gu’Anin. And she had no chitinous parts to her anatomy, no external structures specifically for sensing glyphs.

  “What world are you from?” Ro-Becilo’Ran cut in, leaning as close as her repelling glyph would allow. “Are you a child? How did you get here...?”

  “Ro-Becilo’Ran,” he said, repressively, projecting disapproval. His friend was acting in just the manner that she had described, his curiosity and fascination with something new and different fighting with and getting the better of his judgement.

  “I promise, I hear voices up here,” a distant voice said.

  Hives, we’ve lost our time, he thought. “Listen, little friend, others are coming. Will you come with us? We won’t hurt you, or study you like an insect, I promise. Or we can leave you alone, here, if you wish. What do you want?”

  She blinked at him, obvious indecision warring with fear on her face. Then she moved, lunging at him, and he fell back. But she had only wrapped her arms around him, and huddled to him, shivering.

  “Come, Becil, it’s time to go,” he said, holding her close and struggling to stand. He began working to add her glyph, what he could sense of it, to the veiled return-glyph, just as many treading feet could be heard coming toward them. He managed to do it, just as a group came into the room, and he applied it to Nil’Gu’vua so that they flashed to his suite.

  As the room snapped around them, Pa-Kreceno’Tiv felt as if he had hit a wall of cold darkness, that fell and crushed the breath out of him.

  Whorl Fifty Three

  Pa-Kreceno’Tiv moaned as he struggled to open his eyes. His head was one mass of pain, and his stomach felt as if it were empty and dusty. He felt weak, worn, completely without vitality.

  “I think he’s waking. You are fortunate, son, that you do not have to go to Secondus this turn,” he heard his mother’s voice say sternly, and he knew immediately that he was in trouble. “You are extremely fortunate, extremely skilled, and extremely foolhardy. What you did...” Her projected glyph said it all, that, in short, he could have killed himself and his friend.

  He opened his aching eyes, felt a warm bundle at his side. The girl was huddled beside him on the floor, hanging on to his deshik. His mother was kneeling on the other side of him, looking down at him with disapproval mixed strangely with concern. His father was standing a little ways away. Ro-Becilo’Ran was beside Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv, looking chastened.

  “Where did you find that Heretian child?” Vespa Kareni’Tiv asked, touching his forehead above his vuu’erio tennae.

  Pa-Kreceno’Tiv tried to speak, but just looking around had finished off what little strength he had. He let his head drop back, closed his eyes, and the hard wall of enervation almost toppled on him again, but he fought to hold on to consciousness.

  “My dear, let me move him to the resting pad,” his father said.

  “Wait. The child is frightened, and she obviously wants to stay by him. Please pass me a cushion and a coverlet,” his mother instructed.

  Something soft was placed beneath his head, and then another soft thing covered him. A hard something nudged his mouth, and he opened it, sucked on the spout that was placed there. Life and energy seemed to flow into him as he drank the too-sweet liquid.

  “Child, what is your name?” he heard his mother ask kindly. The girl’s clutch on him tightened, and she made a frightened sound.

  Groaning softly, he tried to project the idea that these were his parents.

  “Travel Gods have mothers?” he heard the girl ask, incredulous.

  “Of course we do, dear,” his mother assured her. “Now, what is your name, and how did you get all the way here from Hereta?”

  He felt the girl press close to his side, and he tiredly projected reassurance, and the feeling that his parents could help her.

  “My name is Okon,” the girl said reluctantly. “I – I came to find a spell to free my people.”

  Free her people? From what? he wondered, but did not project.

  “Continue,” Vespa Kareni’Tiv said, and Pa-Kreceno’Tiv recognized the meditative tone.

  “You have been our rulers long enough!” Okon burst out, ire and determination radiating from her. “You may think yourselves benevolent, but you still dictate what we do, how we may perform our own magic! I would rid our world of you! I found one of your Travel Temples, and I – I used it, to come here, to the place of the Travel Gods, to find a way to vanquish you from Hereta!”

  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 dictato
rs. 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.