Magus Star Rising
Chapter Seventeen

Turning is the Way.

INBORN MANIFESTO

After

She lay on something firm, not the comfortable beds she was used to. A woven floor mat? Yes, yes, vaguely she remembered. Throughout a checkered grayness enveloping her like a shroud, the smell of incense and sweat almost overpowered her. A slow, rhythmic chanting chorused like mumblings from the grave.

She itched, her naked body covered with painted designs. It was hot, so hot. No, cold, she shivered from an unnatural cold. Her stomach heaved, a blinding pain exploded behind her eyes. She groaned as her legs and arms twitched. The chanting rose and fell, louder, then softer. Louder again, flitting in and out of hearing. She felt a sharp prick on her neck as something was pressed against it. The injector again? Her mouth was pried open, some hot, vile liquid forced down her throat. She gagged but swallowed anyway, her body too weak to obey her mind’s protests. She tried to sit up but strong arms pushed her back down. Faces floated, painted, wild-eyed, slack-jawed. A gibbering of voices intermixed with the chanting, unintelligible, alien. Back in the shadows, a figure stood, different from the rest. The black-draped one.

This one she knew. Now she could see. In a flash of insight, she realized who it was. The Ahnkan. Kazrah. Or whatever his real name was.

No matter. It was happening. All the tests they had run on her blood, her skin, her physical and mental makeup... all had been positive, all conducive to the Change. And now it was really happening.

She laughed and everything turned black.

Iolyn awoke, gasping for air like one who was drowning. A dream surely. But the unfamiliar stone walls and ceiling revealed by flickering candlelight and the hard mattress beneath her bespoke otherwise. She was at Vanera’s mountain communa. No, that was where everyone thought she was. This was the other place, the one the Ahnkan had brought her to, the one that belonged to his guild, the one he and his kind used for their illegal purposes.

Shadows surrounded her, moving with a purpose as a cool cloth was placed on her forehead. “Lie still,” a female voice gently urged her. Iolyn lay back and closed her eyes. She felt stiff and sore. Her skin tingled as if burned. Bandages covered part of her face.

Startled, she reached up to touch them. The top of her head was completely encased in wrappings; both ears, her left cheek...

“What? What?” she murmured. Had something gone wrong? Other, stronger hands pulled hers down to her side. Again, something warm and liquid pressed against her lips. This time a sweet taste accompanied the soothing heat that coursed through her. She remembered now. The bandages....

Her eyes fluttered and she fell into sleep.

Iolyn stared at her hands. There had been some subtle changes, yes, but nothing drastic, nothing alarming that the cover of a meditation wrap couldn’t hide. Of course, she had only gone through the first phase of the ritual. Another would follow after her plans had been completed.

“How are you feeling?”

She hadn’t heard him enter. Iolyn placed her hands on the stone sill and looked out the window, ignoring her questioning visitor. Below her the mountains of Ecron Highlands rose green and sharp-edged. Wisps of cloudstuff clung to the craggy peaks, almost hiding the network of ropes and bridges that spanned and connected the communa’s cliffside dwellings like a spiderweb. Shafts of orange sunlight lanced through the cloud cover. A rocra soared on the thermals, the majestic bird gliding effortlessly as it dove and tumbled. Looking down from her cliff-top perch, Iolyn felt as if she were on top of the world.

“I am well,” she said finally, softly. Absently her hands rose to her face. The bandages had been removed. She felt smooth skin, fine long hair, as always. No change, she thought. There’s been no change.

“Excellent. All went according to plan. The metabolic accelerator speeded up the process as we had discussed.”

She could feel the Ahnkan’s presence, even though she knew he stood at the door on the other side of the room. He was like a thrown stone causing ripples in a pond. He possessed some power; his aura projected some force-of-being that could be felt by those he wished to unsettle. She knew that ability was some learned thing, taught to him by the Ahnka and nurtured into a weapon.

She refused to recognize it just yet, though the compulsion to turn and face him was strong. Iolyn had decided, upon awakening here this morning that she would play a little game with him. Why should he have all the fun? she thought with a smile.

“I don’t feel any different,” she said, still gazing out at the mountains. “My face still feels the same, my hands and the rest of my body.”

“May I?”

Iolyn turned then. The Ahnkan had set a tray of food and drink down on the edge of the bed. Iolyn’s mouth watered, her stomach growled. Turning was hungry business indeed. Now the Ahnkan moved closer, creeping silently on his cat feet across the bedroom’s wooden floor. He stood directly in front of her, a mirror in his hands, and held it up to her face.

Yes, she thought, admiringly. I can see it now. She resisted the urge to touch her face again. She didn’t want the Ahnkan to see her satisfaction. Still, she couldn’t help but smile.

The Ahnkan allowed himself a small smile in return, seeing through her ruse easily enough. “The change will be more apparent in a few suns as the nanocytes do their work. And then, after the second treatment, you will be complete.” He nodded approvingly, obviously pleased with himself. “And what part of your play will you be presenting next?” he asked sarcastically.

Fool, she thought, quickly hiding her anger. My body is not the only thing that is changing. I am not afraid of you now. Do not push me too far. “I will be returning in two suns as planned. I will send all the servants home and await the Terran’s report. My husband, if he is even there at all, will barely acknowledge me. I will be immersed in the ‘post-retreat meditation phase’ and will be hidden from prying eyes. No one will notice anything unusual at this point. During my meeting with the Terran, you will be hidden to record that meeting.”

She took a deep breath. She had considered not telling him what she was about to say next but she knew he would find out anyway. “Later, after Simon Weller has left, I will meet with Behoola in my quarters. There is something I must take care of concerning her.”

A slight pause. “You have thought of everything, Mistress. I am impressed. Are you sure you will not reconsider joining my guild?”

Iolyn felt a chill. He seemed serious. “Reconsider? I didn’t realize I was even considering such an offer in the first place. No. I will not.” She glared at the Ahnkan, new emotions running through her. But this time it was she who lowered her eyes. It would not do to anger or alienate this one yet. His part was not yet played out. “But,” she continued in a more subdued voice. “I must say, you have been a great help in the initiation of this plan.”

“It is my job. As is questioning this newest development you have just hinted at. You are not dismissing Behoola for the entire moon? Does this mean you are taking her into your confidence?” For a moment, Iolyn could have sworn the Ahnkan looked surprised.

“No. But there is one last service that must be done.”

“Ah. You have changed the script then.”

Iolyn turned back toward the view outside. “Only a little,” she lied. Since she had awakened in this rejuvenated state, her mind had been full of chaos. She had spent the morning trying to sort everything out, new feelings, perceptions, ideas. The ritual she had endured was powerful indeed. Already she felt clean, reborn. She had to control her hands from shaking, her face from breaking into uncontrolled grinning. As a result, she knew this ‘script’, as the Ahnkan called it, could be reshaped any way she wanted.

And she had decided there were some other, more immediate things she wanted to change. “In the larger scheme,” she continued. “The ending will be the same. Such is the Way.”

“And how will I fare in that ending? Is my Way and yours the same?”

Iolyn could feel his breath on the side of her neck; his mocking smile burned a hole in her back. He had moved even closer. Insolent scum. “You will fare like any employee surely. You will be paid and then you will be gone. With my gratitude, of course, and the knowledge that our Ways, though perhaps not the same, have come together for a mutual, higher purpose.”

She turned to stare, with an effort, into his eyes. “That is part of our contract which has not been changed, which, as I understand, cannot be changed. Yes?” She appealed to his Ahnkan code-of-honor or, more correctly, threw the concept back in his face.

He nodded curtly and gave her a long, searching look. “We will talk later,” he said slowly. “Now you must rest and eat. But, in due time, you will tell me of Behoola’s task. Any deviation, any change in our plans, I must know of and approve. You understand?”

Our plans. “Of course. So, tell me. How fares the Terran? I trust you did check on his progress?”

“Yes.” The Ahnkan pursed his lips. “He ran into trouble with some street scuts. I had followed him and had to intervene without his knowledge in that instance, then left him to recover on his own, not wanting to add to his suspicions. However, in a second case, he displayed a keen intelligence I didn’t think he possessed, almost spotting me following him.”

Iolyn felt a trickle of fear. There must be no slip-ups at this juncture. Oh, she knew the Terran was an unknown factor in her plans, but he was essential. It would take too long to find someone else.

“Do not be alarmed. I am satisfied. This particular Terran may turn out to be exactly who you wished for after all.”

Iolyn snorted. “I thank you for your trust in my ability to choose.”

Again, a smile. And this time, his gaze fixed on her, hard as stone with... some other emotion written on his face. “Well, Mistress,” he said finally. “I will leave you now.”

“Yes.” She felt a chill creep up her back.

The Ahnkan turned, took a few steps and then stopped. “I trust the ceremony was sufficient?” he said, his back facing her.

“Yes. Thank you.” A sham, she knew, but the pretense of the ritual was necessary for her own mental well-being. It comforted her to know she at least tried to follow Vanera’s teachings as closely as she could. That was important if she was to continue with this plan.

“Good. And you feel no side-effects from the accelerator?”

Fatigue? Nausea? Double-vision? Pains in the extremities? “No.” Empowerment? Strength? Fearlessness? Oh, yes.

The Ahnkan nodded and then, almost as an afterthought, “I will be gone again for a time but will see you this early-moon.” With that, he glided from the room.

Iolyn blinked at his retreating back and then glanced briefly around the room. To the left of her bed, a wooden table held a candle and holder, a bowl of fruit, a jug of water and a glow-pipe. At the bed’s footboard lay a pan for bathing and some folded towels. Another larger table and stool stood in a corner of the room. Unadorned, austere; the bathroom was merely a doorless niche with a drainage grate. This communa, as much as she had seen of it, had all the characteristics of a true religious hermitage. But the rituals here were anything but that.

Iolyn shivered. There had been some expression in the Ahnkan’s eyes, a hunger, a yearning, something she had never seen there before. A writer she had supported for a time had told her once that sometimes the characters in his works took on lives of their own despite his plans for them. They would behave in ways he had not foreseen, their actions branching off in surprising directions.

Well she, too, was a writer and, though her modest tomes gave her pleasure in their creation, this plan of hers would be her masterpiece. She would control it.

Her eyes darted to the corner where her saddle bags lay. She walked over, reached inside one of the bags and pulled out her Jaen harp, wrapped and tied in a protective cloth. She had packed the instrument at the last minute, on a whim.

Despite her hunger, she moved the food tray to the table, ignoring the pleasant smells. She pulled the stool to the edge of the bed, sat down on the bed, unwrapped the harp and placed it on the stool in front of her. She looked at the harp for a moment and then, almost reluctantly, plucked at the strings, slowly at first and then more confidently. Soon, despite her absence from playing, her fingers began to dance, moving as if they had minds of their own. And as the music filled the room, her own thoughts wandered.

A play can have several possible endings, she thought as she strummed and picked the harp. I need only search them out and plan accordingly. Outside, the rocra screeched, its high-pitched cry echoing throughout the highlands almost as a counterpoint to the harp’s fluid glissandos. For a moment, another tightness seized her chest. To leave everything behind; to do what must be done...

In two suns I will meet again with the Terran, she thought. And then, Vanera willing, we will see.

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