The girls of the Brotherhood, the wives of the party men, were all broken of will and remade in Flux into the sexual fantasies of the men. They were expected to always be these male fantasies, to think of themselves that way, but they also were expected to prepare the meals, make the clothes and jewelry and other luxury items, keep the houses neat and spotless, bear and tend to the children of the conquerors—boys until age five, girls through puberty— and all of the other domestic needs. They also were the hostesses, the planners of parties and receptions; in communal groups they serviced the workplaces of the men, prepared and served the institutional food and cleaned and kept up the offices and official buildings. This level of organization took a lot of work and required intelligence in planning and execution. They were made safe by law with severe punishments for offenders so that they could walk the streets alone, night and day, without fear. A credit system was developed allowing them to purchase necessities for home and duties, with the bill going to the husband, of course. Luxuries had to be bought for them by their men. Much of the wives’ lives was rather dull and routine, yet intelligence was needed.
Flux had provided the means to keep them where New Eden needed them. The body, which became uniformly attractive and sexy, literally would rule the mind. Emotion would always override reason, and physical needs were absolutely predominant, not something that could be ignored. Their minds were directed inward. Their attention spans were limited, so that thinking or brooding about things beyond their control, or the complexities of politics, finance, the world outside their immediate family and community, technological discoveries, and the like simply bored them after a little bit. They were practical and pragmatic; the things that interested them were the things that applied directly to their day-to-day life, such as housekeeping, sewing and design, clothing and makeup, hairstyles, child care, cooking and cleaning, and sexual techniques, which they sometimes practiced on one another. Beyond this, conversation centered entirely on relationships—husbands, children, friends—whether it was bragging, complaining, comparing, or simply gossiping. Still, the ultimate insurance of power is ignorance on the part of those without. The spell-imposed inability to read, write, or count beyond their fingers and toes guaranteed forever that the women of New Eden would be subordinate, dependent and never a threat.
Polygamy was allowed, even encouraged, primarily because there were far more women than men. Many of the Judges and top officers had many wives, for the law said you could have as many as you could support, but the Chief Judge, in particular, had always been too busy to even think of it. He confessed, however, to being very lonely at the top, but never before found anyone he could consider marrying. He took marriage far more seriously than most of the others.
In the seventh year, using new weaponry, they attacked their vulnerable neighboring Anchor, Bakha. Knowing what had happened to Anchor Logh, the Bakhans had fought furiously and well, the women alongside the men, but to no avail. The new ray-type weapons, which could be tuned to vaporize human beings while leaving all else untouched, just about wiped out the entire population of over a million. Wizards who had helped the Brotherhood get its men and equipment through Flux were well rewarded, and a new government was set up there, staffed with younger officers, in which polygamy was not only encouraged, but required. Bakha contained vital raw materials, but it was Anchor Nantzee, to the far west, that contained the factories. That was their next logical move, but it took a very long time to consolidate Bakha and get it running again with new personnel.
Cassie was near the center of power and decision, but such things simply didn’t interest her anymore. She had returned with Tilghman to the capital, a very different place than it had been in her youth, with only the ancient temple, with its shiny no-maintenance facade and seven towering spires, really recognizable. Much of the old city had been demolished, and in its stead had risen large buildings for research and administration, others for the central market and general services. Most of the workers lived in large, spacious apartment buildings where quarters were as limited or grand as the man’s job and social rank, which also determined which building you lived in. For the top, though, there were now a series of grand structures around Temple Square, luxurious homes which had previously been seen only as dwellings for Fluxlords. The largest and grandest of these, facing the temple entrance itself across the park, was Tilghman’s.
She was awed by it even before stepping inside, and once inside she saw that the ornate carpeting, the huge rooms all tastefully furnished, the art and statuary—female nudes, mostly, she noted with some amusement—were all of a kind only a Fluxlord could have. “You are mistress of this place,” he told her proudly. “The serving girls are all unmarried daughters of prominent men, and they will address you as ‘Mistress’ or ‘Madame.’ Other wives must do their turn in the public buildings, but this is your sole responsibility. It will not be easy. There are a lot of official parties and receptions that must be held here.” But she was so in awe of the place that she hardly heard him.
The staff included a huge number of young girls, mostly between the ages of ten and fifteen. They would be married off, of course, but others would take their places. These girls were, in fact, the new generation that had been born into the system and knew no other. They were ignorant that any other way existed; their education had been entirely tailored to the roles they were expected to fill. They knew the skills Cassie had to learn, and she threw herself into the job enthusiastically.
The work was exhausting and time-consuming, and for a place that size it never ended, but Cassie earned the respect of the staff by being willing to try herself any and all tasks she asked of them, and to keep at it no matter how hot or dirty it was until she could do it with the best of them. She found none of it drudgery, and took great pride in the results.
Adam had proven very well endowed, and very, very good, although she was, in fact, virtually a virgin. She quickly learned what he wanted most, and learned new tricks from the other girls. She felt insatiable, as if making up for all those years of deprivation, which, of course, she was.
In a few weeks, Tilghman had held what he called a “diplomatic reception,” actually a party for both rewarded party functionaries and for representatives from places, both Flux and Anchor, with which they did business. In truth, it was to show her off.
It was a gala affair, with music and dancing, but later on that evening, while she was over checking on the small pastries and drinks, a young woman approached her. She was a knockout by any standards, short, pert, incredibly cute and very, very sexy, with breasts that had to measure over a hundred and five centimeters. Cassie had always wondered how such women bore the weight, and how they kept from chafing in this braless society. Still, there was something oddly familiar about the girl. . . .
“Cassie?” the stranger asked, in a soft and sexy soprano.
“Yes?” She was somewhat startled to be approached so familiarly by a stranger.
“Don’tcha rec’nize me? Even after all this time I kinda hoped y’might. ‘Course, you never seen me lookin’ like this,” she continued, displaying a pronounced and sexy lisp. “I’m Suzl. Suzl Weiz.”
Cassie’s mouth opened, and then they were embracing and crying and hugging again. Finally they broke, and Cassie looked at her old friend. “Look at you!”
“Look at you,” Suzl retorted. “Oh, Cassie, you are gorgeous!”
She felt warm at the compliment. “You only say that because you know how impossibly beautiful you are! All that was fat is now in your breasts and it looks wonderful there!” They laughed at that.
“Cassie, when I came I didn’t know what to ‘spect, but it’s really not a bad life here. It ain’t perfect but it’s the best I ever had. I hope it’s the same for you, too. You glow with beauty.”
“I truly am happy, Suzl,” she responded, and realized that it was somewhat true. “The old days, the old times— they happened to someone else. I can hardly even remember them now, except that they were mostly sad, miserable times.”
“Suzl unnerstands. If I bring back the bad times, I’ll go and stay way aways from you.”
“Oh, no! We just must be friends! You have much to teach me about life here. I need a friend bad.”
Suzl smiled. “Well, O.K. then. Oh, Cassie. we’ll get t’make friends all over again! It’s gon’ be great! You’n me.”
“Do you have any children?”
Suzl smirked. “Ten.”
“Ten!” She was filled with envy and admiration.
They were about to continue when one of the young serving girls came up. “Pardon, Mistress, but your husband sends for you.”
And that was it; all other thoughts and wants simply fled. Suzl understood; she was subject to the same thing. Cassie hurried across the hall to Adam, approached, dropped to one knee and bowed her head, waiting to hear what he would say to her.
It was a small price to pay for being a wife instead of a drone.
At the end of the evening, when all had gone and the basic cleanup had finished, Adam, tired by a very long day, had gone quickly to sleep. Cassie, however, lay in bed in the dark and thought for a while.
All the ghosts of the past were there, but she shut them out. She had no desire to be a man, to take on that responsibility and those worries. She had gone that route, and it had brought her only misery, deprivation, loneliness, and despair. She wanted it no more, did not desire it in the least. There were compromises to be made in this life, but they were, on reflection, no worse than other compromises everyone had to make.
What had her life been? First an ugly duckling tomboy, then a dugger—property, really—who was used by the major powers of World and saw her lover die in their arguments. One who was then used by those same powers, who convinced her it was her destiny to mount a revolution and become a saint. Years in which she had deprived herself of everything, while killing those who did not bend to her and overlooking the sins of those who went along, even depriving herself of her own daughter’s growing up and exposing the innocent child to evil and a life of savagery. Spirit could have still been here now, normal and married and happy, had she not been corrupted by her own mother’s stubborn defiance and chosen savagery over this. And for what? The Reformed Church that mother had built had been false to the core; the Empire she’d founded had crumbled quickly into disarray, leaving most no better off than before, and at the cost of thousands dead to build it.
No collar or spells had converted her, in the end. They had only served to show her how ugly and futile it had all been. No more. She liked being a wife, she liked someone else to do the thinking for a change, she liked being sexy and have men’s eyes twinkle as she swayed by, she liked the idea that she might have a second chance to be a mother in every sense of the word. She liked being the center of attention rather than the center of power. To Hell with the past and all its damage! She was going to live in the present now, and that was that.
It was too late to wonder if she had done right, so she dismissed the question from her mind. A binding spell could never be undone, and could be transferred only by the efforts of a wizard more powerful than the accepter. And Coydt van Haas was dead, thank Heaven!
5
SOUL RIDER’S SONG
“We can’t just sit here and twiddle our thumbs!” Jeff protested. “We have to do something!”
Sondra had sent word to him, summoning him quickly from Globhus to Pericles.
“What do you think we ought to do, sonny boy?” the stringer snapped back. “Mobilize half of World? They’d laugh at you. Go back and forth through every inch of the void? You could fly within fifty meters of her a hundred times and never see her.”
Jeff was a large, muscular young man with wild hair and a thick, if unkempt, full black beard. “It’s easy for you! It’s not your mother and grandmother who might be dying out there someplace!”
That hurt, and required an answer. “Jeff—I was saving this for a better time, but I’m your aunt. Spirit’s my sister.”
He stared at her. “Don’t feed me that shit. Cass only had one kid.”
“That’s true, but Spirit and I have the same father.”
He was suddenly fascinated. “You mean—you’re one of Matson’s kids?”
She nodded. “So, you see, I’ve got a stake in this, too. A personal stake as well as a professional obligation. The only thing I can figure out is that they always shadowed Mervyn, and when they saw I was going off in the right direction they took a chance on me.”
“Yeah, well, it seems to me—”
“Look, Jeff,” she interrupted, “let’s get a few things straight. First of all, I could have handled the duggers and that whatever-it-was machine, but so could your grandmother. Those duggers couldn’t have stalked Mervyn and me, made the right choices, and organized to do what they did. Somebody else put them up to it, and that somebody did their thinking for them. And that someone was powerful enough to literally collapse and undo the whole Fluxland, while keeping me at bay almost as an afterthought. And I’m a pretty strong wizard.”
He calmed down a little. “Yeah—but who? Where do we start?”
“With Zelligman Ivan,” Mervyn’s voice told them, and they turned to see the old wizard enter.
“Mervyn!” Sondra exclaimed. “Thank Heaven they found you!”
” ‘Bout time you got here,” Jeff grumped.
“I was up north trying to get some coordinated action against New Eden,” the old man said. “A messenger came a few hours ago and I rushed down here as quickly as I could. I’m not cut out for turning into birds anymore. I’m bushed.”
“You said something about Ivan?” Sondra reminded him.
He nodded and sank into a chair. “Yes. He’s been working this cluster and has been up to all sorts of mischief for a year or more.”
“Then that’s who I was thinking of facing down back there?”
“Most likely. And a good thing you didn’t, my dear. You’re no match for him, nor are most people. He’s not like the Haldaynes or Coydt van Haas; he generally likes to be in the background and get others to do his dirty work. But when he’s cornered, he’s among the best there is. Lots of folks might lie in wait for Cass, if they could find her, but only Ivan would try for a clean sweep.”
Jeff felt distinctly unhappy about all this. “Where do you think he’s taken them?”
“I doubt if he has your mother. If he does, he won’t keep her. Soul Riders bother them, and they’ve never really beaten one. As for Cass, she’s strong—very strong— and the threat to Spirit will feed her emotions and therefore her power and will. He won’t want to chance tangling with that sort of power. I’d say he’s taken her to Anchor.”
“Then you think she’s alive? We’ll go after her—”
Mervyn held up his hand and Jeff sat back down in his chair. “No, it’s not that simple. I think she’s alive, yes, because he had no need to go to all this time and trouble just to kill her. Now, Sondra, before we proceed, I want all the details of the visit and the attack. All of them. Leave nothing out, no matter how trivial or inconsequential it might be.”
As Jeff fidgeted and fumed, she did as instructed. When she finished, Mervyn just sat there a moment, deep in thought. Finally he said, “Well, if it is any consolation at all, the projector you describe is not intended as a lethal weapon. Its builders intended it essentially to negate powerful wizards. It seems to both knock you cold and cut you off from any Flux power or feeling. The effects last from a few minutes to a few hours, but that’s neither here nor there. It’s long enough for a powerful wizard to spirit someone from the middle of the void to an Anchor, certainly.”
“Who would build such a thing?” Jeff asked.
“New Eden, of course. They hate wizards, but they need them for some of the things they do. This sounds like a payoff of some sort, I fear. Or, perhaps, a wizard’s attempt to curry New Eden’s favor.”
“Huh?” Jeff was startled. “What would those guys want with Grandma?”
“They have always had a paranoia about her. She thumbed her nose at them twenty years ago and many have never forgotten it. She was born and raised there, and they were responsible for killing her father, whom she practically worshipped. She’s a powerful wizard with powerful friends who’s led conventional armies. They think she’s the biggest threat to them going.”
“Then they want to execute her!” Jeff almost shouted. “We’ve got to go get her!”
Mervyn frowned. “Must you yell so? No, I sincerely doubt that. It wouldn’t fit their curious mind-set. They will seek to turn her, to change her into one of their own. It would earn them powerful friends, a great deal of fear and respect, and be the ultimate food for their egos.”
“They—they can’t really do it, can they?” Sondra asked nervously. “I mean, I didn’t speak with her for long, but she didn’t look like somebody they could do that to without Flux power, and she’s strong there.”
“You have no idea how devastating modern brainwashing techniques, as they’re called, can be on any mind. Every weakness is defined and exploited, and I’m afraid Cass has quite a number. And if they can’t wear her down enough to take a binding spell, well, she’s powerful, perhaps as strong as Zelligman, but if she had to face not only Zelligman but a half dozen other Fluxlords at the same time. . . . Yes, I’d say that at least they think they can do it, or they would never have tried it.”
“Then we have to go in there! Rescue her!”
Mervyn sighed. “Jeff, aside from you, there is no one with more respect and love for Cass than I, mixed in with some not inconsiderable guilt on my part. I have just been in Anchors Abehl and Yonkeh, and I must go yet to Anchor Gorgh and perhaps further. Part of those efforts were to defend the Gates, but I’m also trying to organize support for some move on New Eden before it’s too late. And I’m having almost no luck at it, I fear. They’re scared, Jeff, and that gives New Eden a free hand. And they have a perfect right to be scared.”
It was Sondra’s turn to be surprised. “They’re that powerful?”
“They are. Where do you think those amplifiers they used twenty years ago to take over Anchor Logh came from? Coydt had them built, in bits and pieces, in various industrial Anchors, then duplicated them in Flux. That ray weapon they used is the least of their arsenal, most of which we can’t possibly understand. Coydt somehow discovered, amassed, or perhaps even inherited or stole a wealth of ancient writings describing exactly how to build and use these sorts of things. And he assembled a brilliant technical staff to study and experiment with them. Coydt’s forces were dangerous before, but now that they’ve an Anchor to use for their trials and experiments, a place where everything is always consistent and under natural laws, they’ve learned so much about these ancient devices that they have a monopoly on terror. New Eden’s bosses inherited them all, and have encouraged them in every way, as well as recruiting bright young men from all over World to come and help. When you’re offered a job studying and deciphering a scientific revolution, and doing so in a setting where you’re surrounded by beautiful, sexy women who only want to serve you—well, they’ve got the best.”
“Somehow I can’t imagine Grandma as a sexy plaything.”
“Neither could she,” Sondra said. “That, I think, is part of her problem of late, although who am I to know for sure?”
“Very astute.” Mervyn approved. “Sometimes you can be too close to someone to really know and understand them. But, you see, Jeff, nobody’s going to go after New Eden until it scares them directly. The other Anchors and far-off Fluxlands see them as simply another land, a cross of Flux and Anchor perhaps, but that’s about it. To take a land defended with weapons so powerful, the cost would be enormous—and they lost enough of their people in the wars for the Empire. I’ve failed to convince them that they will lose more than their lives if they don’t move,”
“And just days ago you were telling me what fine folks they were in New Eden,” Sondra noted acidly. Jeff didn’t hear.
“O.K., so maybe an army can’t get in—but what about a small number? One or two folks, maybe. It’s been done before.”
“It was done years ago, yes, but that was different. It’s extremely well policed now. The populace is conditioned, men as well as women, to be supportive. If their security devices did not match their weaponry, don’t you think I would have made a raid by now? Oh, it’s been tried by the best, but if anyone has pulled it off we don’t know it. You’ve never been under those kinds of conditions, Jeff. None of us have. I have some indirect channels of intelligence through the Fluxlords who do business with them, but nothing else.”
“They still use stringers,” Sondra pointed out, thinking of alternatives.
“Yes, but it’s all unloaded right on the apron. Stringers do not go in because their loyalties are suspect. And if they did, it wouldn’t be you, Sondra. They’d love to get a crack at converting you.”
“Are you telling me we just leave Grandma in the hands of those bastards?”
“For now, we have no choice. We just pick our opportunities and watch for them, but I can’t see how we can do anything now. No, it’s Spirit we have to be concerned about. I fear that she is out there, confused and all alone in the Flux, with very limited powers. She can follow strings if she’s lucky, but she won’t know where they lead until she gets there, and the closest main string is Logh to Abehl. We’re covering that. I have a huge reward posted and there are hundreds searching now.”
“And I put out the call to the stringers on the routes,” Sondra added. “If she’s following a commercial string like the one you say, they’ll find her.”
Jeff stared at Sondra. “You knew that all the time? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You never let me get a sentence in edgewise. I admit I’m concerned about Cass, and there’s nothing I’d like better than shattering New Eden, but Mervyn is right. First things first. Spirit needs us.”
Jeff looked at them. “I—I’d like to go out and join in the search. I know what the odds are of me finding anything, but I’d feel better about it, and at least I’d be close by if somebody did happen on her.”
Mervyn nodded. “Sure. I’ll give you directions to a search camp.”
“One thing puzzles me, though, in all this,” Sondra put in. “Why totally destroy that Fluxland? There was no threat left.”
“Two reasons that I can think of,” Mervyn replied. “In a sense, it’s a message to me, a direct challenge of sorts. Zelligman wants me to know that he’s ready for me. He must have used one of the amplifiers to break it down so quickly and completely. He’s basically warning me to stay away or be crushed. The other reason, of course, is that it puts the Soul Rider on the run and probably away from him. Zelligman thinks he is using New Eden, but it’s actually New Eden that’s using him. I wish he’d realize that they are as much his enemy as ours, but he’s a devious bastard, like all the rest of them, and very patient. Whatever he and his associates are up to, it’s something very, very unpleasant, you can bet on that.”
The world ended for Spirit with shocking suddenness. She had just come from seeing that beautiful woman visitor, who seemed very kind, and she was walking down the small hill to the stream bank for a drink when it hit.
She felt a wave of dizziness and nausea, and then the whole land seemed to begin to melt. Somewhere in the distance she could hear screams of agony, and her first thought was to find her mother, not only because she was suddenly confused, disoriented, and frightened, but also because her mother maintained this land, and she feared whose screams they might be.
It had been twenty years since she’d felt and seen evil, but she had no sense of time and it made no difference. She knew that, at last, their enemies had come for them, and that they were attacking with tremendous force and power, a power she no longer had and could not match, but one which she could at least keep from herself. She had given her own powers away years ago, but the same spell that limited her existence protected her from others.
The place was too much of a mess now to even find her mother, and the feelings of nausea and dizziness continued unabated. She realized it was hopeless, and decided that her only defense was to escape and wait it out. She was very strong and very athletic, but she could be overpowered by sheer brute strength.
There was no wall, she saw, just the void beyond. She made for it, picking a spot at random and jumping through, then running as fast as she could for several minutes. The odds were with her; only an army totally surrounding the land or a massive new Flux barrier could stop her. The attackers here were few, and, although she didn’t know it, were in their own brand of trouble from Sondra.
After a while she slowed down, then stopped and simply sat on the soft, spongy, featureless ground of the void. It had been a long time since she’d been out in it, and she sat there, suddenly entranced by the beautiful display of electrical discharges that made the place shimmer. She could always see wonders others could not, that she knew, and this might well be one of them.
Still, she would have to consider her next move. She was fine now, and had few requirements, but she would need a source of food and water. In the old days, she could just wish them into being when needed, but while she had the wizard’s sight she knew she had no control. She could receive, but not send.
She was worried about her mother and the pretty lady, but there was nothing she could do about it. Whoever had done this was strong and mean, and could have her for breakfast. There was a linking spell connecting her mother to her, but although it had always been there and she’d taken it for granted all this time, it wasn’t there now. That scared her, for she feared her mother might well be dead.
And that left Spirit entirely on her own. It wouldn’t have bothered her if she still had the power, but it bothered her now. There were lots of places, good and bad, on World, but she didn’t know where any of them were and which were the good ones. There was nothing to do but to walk until she found a string, and follow it wherever it led.
She felt the Soul Rider stir inside her head. It had always been there, this invisible, incomprehensible companion. She knew it had been in her mother until she was born, but had then chosen to be born with her. She had never feared it, and had pretty much taken it for granted.
She began walking, and covered what seemed to be a good distance, without ever crossing a string. She grew tired, and thirsty, and finally stopped and stretched out in the void. She always slept when she felt like it, and did so now. There was nothing to be done for the thirst.
The Soul Rider stirred again as she slept, and assessed the situation. It could aid her body, minimize the harm, but the point was that, without someone with the power, it couldn’t make what she needed. It felt frustrated, for it knew all the spells but had no way to carry them out.
Spirit might be discovered tomorrow, but it could sense no one nearby, not now, and while there was a red string nearby, indicating a main trail to somewhere, there was no telling exactly where it led. To direct her into the hands of the very people who had done this was not in Spirit’s, or the Rider’s, best interest.
The line, the link that connected it to its unseen master, was open and functioning. Certainly what had happened had been monitored and recorded, it thought. Why was I directed to this poor woman if only to watch her die? They may be searching now, but they may have done so complete a job that no one even knows about it, and won’t for weeks. It was often that long, or longer, between visitors to the Fluxland.
The Soul Rider, for the first time in many lifetimes of hosts, was confused enough to transmit a request for instructions, rather than simply waiting for a command to come.
And, to its surprise, there was a reply, in the complex binary code that was its language.
Probabilities indicate the unlikelihood of regaining the established protector, the message said. Therefore a pragmatic, although radical, course is called for. Therefore, direct contact is authorized in the following manner. It went on to feed the proper strings of instruction, and the Soul Rider recorded it and was amazed by its simplicity and excited by its potential. Never before had a Soul Rider been permitted to make direct contact with a human intelligence, although it altered and influenced human behavior. It understood that this exception was being made because they wanted Spirit the way she was for some reason, and because Spirit could not communicate anything except the most basic information to another, by pantomime.
Coydt’s spell had altered the internal language by which Spirit’s brain processed information. The new language the Soul Rider had always known was mathematical in nature, but now it was clear through the strings that it was a simplified variant of its own. Until now, it had not been permitted to recognize this, although it was more than logical. It knew her every thought and feeling.
It sent out a tentative probe, and Spirit woke up with a start, very puzzled. She could have sworn, although it was impossible, that someone was calling her name.
Spirit? Do not be afraid. . . .
It was something—but it wasn’t sound, and it wasn’t a voice. She was—thinking it—but it wasn’t her! Or was it? Had the experience driven her mad?
It is real. Spirit. I must use your own mind to communicate, so when I must talk, you cannot. But I understand your thoughts. I have always understood them.
“Who are you?”
I am a spirit of Flux and Anchor. Many call me the Soul Rider.
She didn’t know whether to believe her own thoughts or not. She was confused, a bit afraid, and yet very excited. It was the first time she had been able to talk to anyone in a long, long time. If she was just crazy, well—what difference did it make?
The excitement turned to anger and frustration. “Why has it taken so long for you to speak? Don’t you know how desperate I was to talk with someone, anyone?”
I was not permitted to know how. I begged for a way to help you, and received the knowledge.
“Who—gives you permission? How?”
I do not know. None of us knows. We have no choice in what we do but to follow orders.
“But not this time?”
No. Not this time. My masters believe you are of some future service to them.
“What happened back there?”
One of the Seven, aided by a dugger cult, attacked your mother as she was outside, rendered her inoperative, and carried her away. Your home was destroyed by that same one of the Seven, using one of the great amplifiers of Flux power. That is all I know.
“Is my mother—dead?”
No. I receive data sufficient to indicate that they intend to render her harmless in a way that is different than but at least as restricting as what you must bear.
She didn’t like the sound of that. “Will it work?”
Unknown, but the probability is that it will. The Seven would not take on a top wizard, a Soul Rider, and a construct of one of the Nine unless they were very certain of themselves. The mere fact that it was done puts the probability of success over the eighty percentile mark.
“I—I don’t understand numbers any more.”
It will work.
“Oh.” She felt genuine sorrow, and tears came to her eyes, but she knew it was useless to dwell on things she could neither understand nor control. She let the sorrow pass, then said, “Then I am alone now.”
You are not alone, nor am I. We will never be alone again. Allow me to control your body commands, and we will find food and drink.
“You can do that?”
There is a stringer trail nearby, a main one running between Anchors and major Fluxlands. Such trails have pockets the stringers create for themselves so that they might have food and water if need be. We will find one.
It was a curious sensation. She got up and began to walk, and she had no control over it at all. She had never feared the Soul Rider, nor did she now, but the whole thing was unnerving. They came to the string in a short while, and she stood there while the Rider probed.
They are searching for you.
“They? Who’s ‘they?’ Friends or enemies?”
Unknown. It is a relative concept, anyway. Do you wish to be discovered?
”Without knowing who’s who?”
Then we will avoid them. Come, we will move away from the string and follow it in parallel. The nearest pocket is barely within my range, but we can get there fairly quickly. You can run, you know, at the speed of a trotting horse.
“I know. I was just thinking about my son.” I know your thoughts, remember. When you have fed and watered, we will seek out one of the Nine who will be able to help.
This is the land where dwells the chairman of the Nine, Mervyn.
“I—I think I was there once.”
More than once. But it is dangerous to enter. Agents are watching the sole entrance and charting the comings and goings. It is most certainly how they found you in the first place. They have things that could hurt or kill you. I cannot read the composition of those inside the Fluxland from this distance, but certainly there are friends, powerful friends, inside.
She hesitated. “Do they—want me?”
The only minds open to me are minds which I have entered. I can calculate probabilities, but even here that is impossible. They may, or they may not. The odds go both ways.
She didn’t know what to do. “What do you recommend?”
I have no directive. It is a question of what you want and feel. If we try, and are not captured, they will know you are safe. Your loved one will be reassured.
She thought about it. “But if I go in, I will stay in. They will fear for me, and I will be kept from all harm. I have a nightmare of being captured and put on display. This would be little different, even if it is my son and my friends.”
Is it so different from what you had?
“Yes. I didn’t have you. Alone, there would be no choice, but I only stayed back there for my mother’s sake, knowing she needed to be with me and knowing, too, that going out with her would mark her for her enemies no matter what her disguise. There’s no reason for it anymore. I want to be free, to roam, as my nature tells me.”
Again I receive no countermanding data. Whatever danger you will help prevent is not imminent. But some will not give up the search.
“We’ll worry about that when they catch me. I think after this long time I’m due some fun, away from this, away from all the mess around here.”
Hold! The stringer who visited you just before the end emerges from the Fluxland. She turns north.
Spirit thought a moment. ‘ ‘Can we keep pace with her? Until we’re out of immediate danger, that is?”
I believe so. She seems in no hurry.
“She goes back to work, then. Tell me—do you think I could make her understand? Do you think she’d turn me over, or go along?”
Unknown. Do you wish to take the chance?
“It’s worth a try. They’d catch me otherwise. I know that.”
The Soul Rider gave some thought to the problem. It was in its own way as limited as, and by, its host, yet it had powers to influence others in Flux or Anchor. That was its job. It was beginning to like being half a person, having something other than a vicarious life, and its masters were not interfering. Perhaps, it thought to itself, it was some sort of experiment. In many ways, its powers were empathic. It could transmit and control emotional reactions in others, and by that shape their choices. It had done that, on directive, with countless hosts, and with Cass and Spirit and many of those with whom they came in contact, such as Suzl and Matson, but it had always done so by directive.
But there was no reason now why it couldn’t do a little bit on initiative. Its stake in its host had just increased massively.
Spirit broke into the inhuman sprint that her incredible body was capable of, and began paralleling Sondra in the void.
6
WHAT YOU NEED
Cassie had had several good months to get to know her old homeland and New Eden once more. She insisted on doing all the shopping for the household, and this took her back and forth in the capital and allowed her to see what this new life was all about.
Adam had been away more than home of late; there seemed to be big doings in the capital and big plans afoot. The atmosphere was charged, but there seemed no threat to New Eden—if anything, it was the other way around— and so she dismissed it from her mind. It was a warm, pleasant day, the household was in order, and while there was always something to do this was not the day to do it. She had packed a small basket with fruit and cheese and some good local white wine, and she went out and across the street to the park and sat and waited for Suzl.
Temple Square was still a park, but they had planted a lot of nice trees and shrubs and put a large mechanical playground in the center. Now, as usual on nice days, a number of girls were there looking over hordes of kids playing, and she watched them idly. One day soon she would make use of that place. Although it didn’t show as yet, she knew she was over three months pregnant.
She looked over at the temple, still the dominant structure in the town and the Anchor, its gleaming, shiny facade and seven steeples reflecting the bright colors of what she’d been brought up to believe was Heaven. New Eden knew better, knowing and teaching that it was merely a planet like World, but far larger, its massive gravity causing World to forever circle it. Light, but no heat, came from it. Where the heat did come from was still a subject for speculation, and not something that greatly concerned her. They were working on things like that in the temple now, which had become the center of New Eden’s progressive scientific research: out of there had come the rural electrification, the indoor bathroom and shower, the electric polishers and even the electric oven. She still hadn’t adjusted to that one, and continued to look for the wood bucket.
She stared at the steeples, and felt an eerie sensation run through her. It seemed almost as if something flowed to and from them in a steady stream, something that was indistinct but tangible. Suddenly something seemed to focus directly on her, reach out to her. . . . She gasped and shivered in the warmth, and stood straight up, but it was gone.
“Felt it too, huh?” came Suzl’s voice behind her.
She turned, frowning. “It was—eerie. I could almost swear”—she paused, looking for the words—”that it was looking straight inside me.”
Suzl looked at her very strangely. Finally she said, “Well, forget it for now. It’s a totally gorgeous day, and I thank you for letting me get out in it.”
“Huh?” Cassie was still a little disturbed by the sensation.
“If the Chief Judge’s wife hadn’t called for me, this little one would be slavin’ in the big brain’s kitchens today. Now, ’cause it’s a duty day and the kids are bein’ sat, I can take it easy. C’mon, doll, let’s go someplace.”