Let us speak of Mister Meaning.
Aye, Luminary's weasel. Her right hand man. Her tool for the continuation of New Ludaya. Captured by Hadawa'ko, he did not take part in the rebuilding of Ganá:yeht. Instead, his sentence was exile. Exile to Impellia III, to live among the remains of metahuman outposts and the baublefruit trees. The atmosphere was acrid. The water was tinged with something that tasted odd to him. The only edible food here was the glowing fruit of the trees that covered the planet. A miserable existence, devoid of diversity.
Perhaps if the gate still worked, he could have escaped to Bloodrun, traveled back to Londoa, and from there, the entire multiverse would have been open to him.
But, no, that was not in the cards.
A few metahumans were calling ships. The Dorucanthos left Impellia III on Melitta Dorucanthos's old cargo runner, flanked by two escorts they had called from a family friend. A few others had family in the Silver Eye, who had pooled money with their communities to bring traveling services out to this ass end of nowhere, to take them elsewhere. Still more simply piled onto the Memnis, the cargo hauler that Myron Becenti had called in.
But Meaning had no one.
No one searched for him. Invited him. Rescued him.
He was alone.
He tried not to let it get to him, as he watched the people pile onto traveling shuttles from a distance. Shuttled that carried them to the Memnis and to salvation. High Federation warships floated overhead, pinpricks of light that aped the stars. Hundreds of them, ready to glass the planet with but a word and a vow. But Kathen Aru had been true to his word.
They were not attacking them.
They were letting them leave.
Meaning exhaled. Curled in on himself.
Watched his people leave without him.
Knowing that they would not miss him. Him and his acrid tongue.
***
Joseph found Lunus Oculus sitting beside Thunderhead's grave. The night was young, and crickets had begun ringing their songs in the night. Lunus's eyes were closed, and for a moment Joe thought she had fallen asleep.
He cleared his throat.
And she opened them. They had become blue, like his, in the intervening days, as the moon on its own whim had changed, waning into a thin crescent high above. She tilted her head and gave Joe a sad smile.
“Word's come,” Joe said, “The Memnis is about ready to leave.”
“I see,” she said.
Joe stretched.
“After that, we're going to be leaving,” he said, “The guild, I mean. Our job here's done.”
“One of your ships?” Lunus Oculus asked.
“Yeah,” Joe said.
Lunus Oculus nodded at this. She cast an azure gaze over to her old friend's gravestone.
“I never even got to say goodbye,” she said, “I've lost many friends, over these last few months.”
Joe sighed, walked over, sat down in the grass across from her.
“I get it,” he said, “They ever find Rainbowfish?”
She shook her head.
“No,” she said, “He's gone. Not even a body.”
She wiped her eyes.
“He wanted to be buried, you know,” she said, “Where he's from, they remove the tongue and replace the eyes with stones made of malachite. He told me that. He wanted to be buried in the same way. Not a metahuman ritual. At least, not that I know of, but...”
She swallowed.
“I apologize,” she said, “I'm rambling.”
“It's alright,” Joe said, “I'm sorry.”
“It wasn't your fault,” Lunus said.
“Well,” Joe said, “Someone should say it.”
He looked out onto the grass plains. The longhouses and Amoeboy's commune stood together. Someone had set up a bonfire, and music was playing. People were laughing and joking. Someone was letting out a crowing whoop into the sky, sending it up with the embers that drifted nightward, intermingling with the stars.
“I don't know if I'll stay here,” Lunus Oculus said.
Joe looked back over to her.
“Ganá:yeht,” Lunus Oculus said, “There's too much... memory here. I look at the Oshya:de, and I remember what it felt like, that... shivering in the stomach. When we found them in the caves.”
“Where will you go?” Joe asked.
“I don't know,” Lunus Oculus replied, “Glow's leaving, too, but they made it clear to me that they want to be left alone for a while. Dodeca's going with her family, to pick up the pieces of what they left behind. Tallneck and the Giant Northern Termite Queen are staying.”
“The last of the malcontents,” Joe said, smirking.
Lunus Oculus smiled.
“It was... exciting, wasn't it?” she said, “In its way. The secret meetings. The righteous indignation. But that's done now. New Ludaya's gone. The nation is dead. What's left is community, and I... I don't feel part of it.”
Joe sighed.
“So you'll travel alone,” he said.
“I have done so before,” Lunus Oculus said.
“That's dangerous, for people like us,” Joe said.
“It is,” Lunus Oculus said, “But again, I've done it before.”
The guildmember scratched an arm awkwardly, unsure of what to say.
No, rather, how to say it.
“You don't have to,” he said.
She looked up at him.
“Have you...” Joe swallowed, “Considered joining a guild?”
***
“It's all sealed up, then,” Tekahentakwa said.
“Yes,” Rohahes replied, “The Stonemaker's done his work.”
The Clan Mother nodded. She leaned back against the wall of the longhouse. One of the first to be completed. Longhouses on Ganá:yeht, after so long. Already a fire burned cheerily in the room, warming it against the cold night. Rohahes sat down across from her, rubbing the stump of his hand absently.
“We'll need to do something,” Tekahentakwa said, “Set up a ceremony of some sort. I've already sent people to the lakes to gather up shells for the further re-establishment of the Settled Peace.”
Rohahes nodded at this.
“I’m glad that the Clan Mothers transitioned Hadawa’ko back to being Chief,” he said, “You’re confident, right? That the metahumans will keep their word.”
“Yes,” Tekahentakwa said, “There are deals to be made. Disagreements to mediate. But… yes. For the most part.”
The warrior nodded at this. He looked a bit awkward as he gazed into the fire. Tekahentakwa smiled.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I...” he said, “Are we going to be alright?” he asked.
“We will be,” Tekahentakwa said.
“Even though so many of them are staying?”
The Clan Mother had heard that question many times already. Had asked it to herself, even.
She sighed.
“Many of the metahumans came here to escape from the High Federation,” she asked, “They're refugees.”
“Refugees who have the power to shake the world,” Rohahes said.
“You fought alongside them, Rohahes,” Tekahentakwa said, “What do you think of them?”
Rohahes blinked.
Thought about this.
“They're scared,” he said, “Like we are.”
She nodded.
“And... they're fine, I guess,” Rohahes said, “Many of them came to our aid, without a second thought, as soon as they found out about us. After they found out what Luminary did to us.”
“Because they have experienced the same,” Tekahentakwa said, “Because of the High Federation. What sort of people would we be, to turn them back out into the night?”
Rohahes smiled at this.
“You've gotten pretty good at this, haven't you?” he said.
She reddened in the face, was for a moment a silly teenager again.
“I-I suppose so,” she said, “But, I suppose I've had support, to get me where I am. From many people.”
(Including you, she wanted to say. But, she needed time to sort through such thoughts.)
“Ha!” Rohahes said, “True. Someone doesn't guide a people without hands to guide her in turn.”
She returned his smile.
“And I'll need guidance yet,” she said, “From everyone.”
***
The Memnis's cargo bay was crowded. Metahumans who had chosen to leave were gathered in the various holds in the ship's secondary pod, and each cavernous room was becoming a community in of itself. People jostled together, trading laughs and jeers, not a few were looking through viewscreens down at Impellia III, and what lay beyond it, with forlorn looks.
Among these were Pocket and Analyza. The two lay huddled together, their bags safely within Pock's pockets, her wife's head resting on a shoulder.
“So, that's it, then,” she said.
“Yes,” Pocket said, “It is.”
“I would have loved to stay,” she said.
“As would I,” Pocket said, “But we talked about this.”
“The High Federation knows it's there,” she said.
“And no matter how much Valm's golden boy says that he won't harm us, we know that as soon as he's gone, they'll be back.”
Analyza nodded glumly at this.
“What are we going to do, Pock?” she said, “I'm scared.”
“I am too,” Pocket said, “But...”
She looked down at her.
“We're together. That's what matters, at the end of the day.”
…
…
In the same hold, Uni was checking over the last of the weapons they had smuggled onto the Memnis. Meloche stood apart from them, reading a book on urban warfare. Wavemaker was tapping a hand against the floor, which rippled at his touch. Fractal was watching Uni check over a rifle.
“As soon as we get to Karatropolis,” Uni said, “We'll need to make sure you have the bag.”
“Me?” Fractal said, “Why me?”
“Because you stand the best chance of not getting stopped by the Feddies,” she said, “I've got this horn on my head. Meloche, no offense, looks like a metahuman. Wavemaker might be able to get it, but he'll already be on thin ice trying to get us through with those forged licenses.”
She polished the barrel of one of the pistols.
“Only one crime at a time,” she said.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Fractal swallowed.
“Alright,” she said, “Not what I'm used to, but I'll do it.”
Uni smirked at her.
“You were a good girl before New Ludaya, weren't you?”
“I didn't even know I was metahuman until I started traveling,” Fractal said, “I only know how to be polite, or how to hit someone really hard.”
“You will learn,” Meloche said from his corner, “We'll teach you as we go along. There's more to being a metahuman than using your abilities.”
Fractal smiled at this.
“Yes,” she said, “I suppose there is.”
***
And, at last, the Memnis started up its engines. Shuddered, for a second, as its warp drive came online, that rainbow thing that held Imagination itself.
A crowd of metahumans and Oshya:de stood to see it off. Heading them were Hadawa'ko and Tekahentakwa. They stepped out of Ganá:yeht and onto Impellia III and the Silver Eye. Rankled their noses at the smell of the planet. At the coldness of it. The glowing of the baublefruit trees. And the foreign stars in the sky.
“There,” Stepping Stone said, pointing it out to them, “See that blot there? That's the Memnis.”
“And those are Federation ships around it?” Hadawa'ko said.
A pause.
“Yeah,” Stepping Stone said, “That's them.”
He laughed nervously.
“Scary, isn’t it?”
The two Oshya:de simply stared up at the fleet, their mouths creased in thin frowns.
But they, at least, waved with the rest of the others as the Memnis disappeared into the night. One moment it was there, the next it was not. To far-off Karatropolis.
And that was that.
In ones or twos, sometimes threes and sometimes as family units, those who remained went back through the Traveling Point.
***
Valm was, at last, allowed to return. He and the rest of Pagan Chorus took a shuttle to the flagship of the Twelve-Thousandth Blessing-Upon-Blessings, an old Petraek-class, all sharp edges and points and without the crescent-moon shape that defined the more classical and neo-classical starships within the High Federation's fleet. They gave them a hero's welcome, half of the crew gathered in the hangar bay and clapped as the Prime Voice stepped off of the shuttle.
The admiral herself walked up and introduced herself to Valm. The two exchanged pleasantries, commented on a few things, the planet below, the state of the survivors, how Valm looked to be at the height of health.
Kathen hardly noticed.
He heard the ripple of the fleet in the back of his mind, filling the spot where Merry's chatter usually would go. It forced out her snide little comments. They were upset. They were relieved.
They were ready to go home.
The Twelve-Thousandth Blessing-Upon-Blessings found nothing worth avenging on Impellia III. At Valm's command, the fleet ceased any hostile operations, its bioscans and projected plans for potential glassing, and as one, like white blood cells within the body, they turned, and warped out of the system.
Kathen did not see Valm, nor really any other members of Pagan Chorus, for a while. He was assigned temporary quarters, and he spent his time there. Merry fed him news. Old Scar was wheeled to the medical wing, and he was undergoing extensive surgery. Rhunea was at the bar again. Dicaeopolis inquired after his young guildmate for another game of Under the Ruler's Gaze. But, upon learning that Kate wished to be left alone, he sent him well wishes, and disturbed him no further.
It was on the second day of the fleet's travel back to Everlasting Truth that Kathen received summons from the guildmaster.
He rose from his bed. Showered. Put on his overcoat, donned the badge of the High Federation, which felt like fool's gold upon his chest. He needed Merry's help to guide him to Valm's quarters. The crew gave him nods as he walked. Some even saluted. Word was traveling of Kathen's leadership on the Oshya:de's plane.
Valm's room was a luxurious one, the floor made of marble, the lights here mimicking sunlight instead of the artificial purples and reds like the rest of the ship. Plants grew in pots on either side of the doorway, and a long table had been set up in the center, a feast laid out for Valm and any of his guests. Berries and meats and stews, legs of far-off animals that were salted and spiced. Wines of a dozen varieties, some that were dry and others that burned, still more that left one's head spinning with delight. A small pool of water was in the corner, and a waterfall deluged down into its center. The ambience of nature, captured and brought here.
“Ah, Kathen,” Valm said, “Come. Sit.”
Kathen sat down across from Valm. Looked askance of him. The Prime Voice merely smiled. He was wearing a fresh set of robes. His wing had been repaired and regenerated. He looked as fresh and new as when he had left for Impellia III.
“We have much to talk about,” Valm said, “But, first. Eat. You must be hungry.”
The two ate, and for a time the only sound was the scraping of knives, the awkward smacks of chewing and swallowing. When they had finished, Valm looked up at Kathen.
“So,” he said, “You chose to let them live.”
Kathen nodded. He felt a pinprick, warm and anxious, settle at the base of his spine, start crawling up his back. Valm's eyes studied him for a while.
“Why?” the guildmaster asked.
“Because I could hear them,” Kathen said, “I could hear everyone. Everyone's fears. Their anxieties. At first I thought... I thought that it was because of the situation. The metahumans were building a nation, and the Federation was responding as it always did.”
He looked away from Valm, his gaze landing on one of the goblets of wine. It was still full, and as the ship lurched onwards it rippled slightly, as though heralding a giant.
“But I listened more,” Kathen said, after a time, “And... I realized something. Everyone there was lost.”
He met Valm's stare again.
“Lost. All of us. All of them. Everyone, just flailing about. Trying to make sense of the hatred around us. Trying to understand why... why someone would do this. Would ruin families. Kill fathers. Kill mothers, kill sons and daughters. The killing of a world, and everyone wondered why, and no one thought that there could be anything else.”
“You heard their voices,” Valm said.
“I did.”
“And you took control of my guild,” Valm said, “Away from Old Scar.”
“As is my right,” Kathen said, harder, “I am Sairad Ghedir.”
And a thin smile crept onto Valm's face.
“You don't even know what that means, do you?” he said.
“Lord of the Past,” Kathen said, “I feel it, but I do not know it. But perhaps that is enough.”
“It is not,” Valm said, “But it is a start.”
He tilted his head forward.
“We will learn, in the coming weeks,” he said, “You will train. And reveal your true heritage. Who you are, which is ruler of all.”
Kathen's brow furrowed.
“Tell me,” Olendris Valm said, “What can you tell me about our founders, the Alu'eer?”
***
At last, the Titania Amber settled down onto Ganá:yeht. Cobalt Joe, Becenti, Aldreia, Nasir, Iandi, Evancar, and Lunus Oculus stood out in the field, a crowd of Oshya:de and metahumans watching them from afar.
Meleko stepped out of the ship first. Strapped to the gills with weapons, the Jugdran looked ready for a fight. Four eyes swiveled to and fro, his very appearance making a few of the Oshya:de gasp in surprise.
But he looked over and smiled at Joe.
“Hey,” he said, “Hell of a time, right?”
“You have no idea,” Joe said.
They bumped fists.
The second person to come out of the ship was none other than Vyde Wakeling herself. She floated in the air like a rogue planetoid, turning this way and that, her mashed up nose sniffing the air, taking in the world of Ganá:yeht.
“Myron,” Wakeling said, “What exactly happened?”
“...A lot,” Becenti said, “We'll tell you on the way back.”
“Alright,” Wakeling said, “Has Dumandus already left?”
“Him and the High Federation,” Becenti said, “They're gone.”
“Ah, good,” Wakeling said, “You took a contract with some people here, yes?”
“I did,” Becenti said, and he gestured over, “In the crowd there, approaching us. That's Clan Mother Tekahentakwa, of the Oshya:de.”
“And you swore on an irregular contract, I hear,” Wakeling said.
“A wampum,” Becenti said, “Beads knitted together into a vow.”
Wakeling nodded at that.
“Alright,” she said, “I want to talk to the client, make sure she's satisfied with our service.”
She smirked at Becenti, winked at Joe.
Met Lunus Oculus's blue gaze.
“Ah,” she said, “And you are?”
“L-Lunus Oculus, ma'am.”
“Ha!” Wakeling said, “You're making me feel old. I'd shake your hand, but I'm afraid I've left it at home.”
“I... see,” Lunus Oculus said.
“Vyde Wakeling, at your service,” the floating head said, “Guildmaster of the Amber Foundation. No doubt you've worked with our best.”
“Yes,” Lunus Oculus said, “And... I'd like to join you.”
Wakeling blinked.
“Join us?” she said, “Well...”
Tekahentakwa was approaching. Wakeling turned back to Lunus Oculus.
“We'll speak later,” she said, “How's that sound?”
Lunus Oculus smiled.
“That works for me,” she said.
***
Tekahentakwa and Wakeling spoke alone for a long time. During which Meleko helped the others pile up onto the Titania Amber. They packed their bags. Loaded them onto the box-shaped starship.
There were a few things to remember Ganá:yeht by. Hadawa'ko came forward to Nasir, presented him with a bow and arrow.
“It is a new make,” he said, “Carved by the Arrowmakers. I used it myself during the final battles. I want you to have it.”
Nasir took it, tested its strength. The bow was supple and strong. He nodded in satisfaction.
“A good weapon,” he said, “May you need these only for hunting.”
Wá:ri and Kariwase, meanwhile, were talking with Evancar. The Professor was hard at work writing, listening as Kariwase recounted the stories of the Oshya:de to him. To be recorded, to be remembered, for when Ganá:yeht lapsed out of forecast with the rest of the multiverse.
Becenti was speaking quietly to Tallneck. The giraffe-necked metahuman was presenting him with a silver necklace.
“It was Luminary's,” he said.
Becenti looked down at it.
It was an amulet that depicted the symbol of Old Ludaya. Back when she and Becenti had been the idealists, and not the cynics. It shared the same iconography as New Ludaya, depicting twin strands of DNA, curling around each other like lovers.
But, unlike New Ludaya, there was no sword. No promise of war and vengeance-laced justice. Justice, to them, back then, was simply leaving and getting to wake up in the morning.
He shuddered a sigh. Held the necklace close to his chest.
“She kept it,” he said.
“We found it in her quarters, as we were clearing it out,” Tallneck said.
“She kept it,” Becenti said, again, and he bit back tears, “Oh god, Luminary...”
Memories swirled in his mind, broken fresh anew. Of times of war, of joy stolen between moments of violence. Shimmer and Luminary, two metahumans against the world, seeing the sights of the multiverse under the thick veneer of bloodshed. Of whispered talks over a campfire of better days and better dreams. Musings over political writings, studies of the laws of nations, and where they failed and succeeded. Of ancient metahuman heroes, those icons of Epochia.
All of this, and all that was left was an old man and a necklace.
“Thank you,” he said, “This is more than she deserved.”
“Of course,” Tallneck said, “I... I hope you can make it mean more than... this.”
He gestured to Ganá:yeht. And the sins that had happened here.
…
…
After a time, Wakeling returned back to the group.
“Last goodbyes made?” she asked.
They nodded.
“Alright,” she said, “Amber Foundation, we're going home.”
She winked at Lunus Oculus.
“We'll interview you en route. How's that sound?”
Lunus Oculus grinned.
“I would like nothing better.”
***
Let us speak of Cobalt Joe.
Joseph Zheng.
The names felt interchangeable in his mind. Both of them, part of him. Both of them, the whole of him. The eagle and the metahuman, the soul and the flesh, intertwined and dancing together like DNA strands.
He talked with Lunus Oculus on the way back to Londoa. The Titania Amber took the usual route back home, a flight across space that took the better part of two weeks. Back to Everlasting Truth, and the Traveling Point that led to Beritale Landmass. He read a few books that Wakeling provided, swapped stories with Meleko about what had been going on in the guild.
“Aye,” the Jugdran said, “Rosemary and Orion just got back from that job on Duran, so she should be around.”
He winked at him. Joseph furrowed his brow.
(Tried not to redden.)
“What about Phin?” he said.
“Oh, still with Draynach on Amzuth,” Meleko said, “They should be home soon.”
Lunus Oculus listened to them with rapt attention. Many new names. Many new faces that she would soon have to learn, and remember.
Well, she had done so on New Ludaya. She would do so again.
…
…
And, late at night, when everyone else was asleep and Joseph was manning the console, he would spend his time deciphering Nai Nai's journal. He listened to music quietly, running the mixtape G-Wiz had given him on repeat, Nujabes and MF DOOM and other artists from Earth acting as the beat to his research. His head pounded with a dozen languages that he didn't recognize, all in his Nai Nai's script, the only familiarity in a book of peculiar journeys.
He was getting closer, he knew. Each day, each time he opened the pages, more pieces fell into place, as though Fēngbào had written it solely for him.
Getting closer...
He drifted to sleep.
Becenti found him the next morning, book half-open, his cheek resting on the console.
He smiled at his guildmate. Was proud that he had done the right thing, when the truth was presented to him. He closed up the journal, gave it a cursory look, and took control of the console from the other seat. Let Joe rest. He deserved it.
God willing, they all did.
…
...
Thus did the Amber Foundation return back to Londoa, to Castle Belenus, to Scuttleway. Joseph slept like a log the first night home. Went out for drinks with Rosemary and Broon the second. Talked with Lunus Oculus the third, for she was allowed to join the guild. Had a visit from Glonthek gel Glonthek the fourth, to go over any potential legal ramifications with Pagan Chorus. All the while, he felt...
At peace.
Content, for he was back with his people.
***
Becenti was not so happy to return.
The adrenaline, the energy, the sheer rage had, at last, abated, returning back to that spot in the pit of Becenti's stomach, to be called upon for use later. Anger was something he knew well, and used well, but he always felt exhausted afterward.
Exhausted, and sad.
He looked at the dingy state of his office. At his quilt hanging from his wall like a mere poster, one his father had given him, a hand-me-down from his grandmother. He had never known her. He had never known really much of his family, really, save for the work of cars and the attempts by his brothers to go to powwows and learn Navajo.
His old bookshelf, too, with his metahuman books. Another attempt to find some sort of legacy. This he stared at, and not for the first time, with disdain and loathing. How he hated himself. How he hated the metagene, and all that it stood for. Hadn't he suffered enough?
He buried his face in his hands.
Sobbed, quietly, alone in the office.
All dreams were ended. All hope was gone.
There were only the nightmares now, those that came with wakefulness.
...But he knew he would get up the next morning, and continue the work again.
There was no choice but to.
***
...Let us speak of Kehaulani. Twenty-eight years old. Her metahuman power was the gift of night – she knew the number of stars in the sky of every plane she visited.
As of now, as she rose in the middle of the night, she counted three thousand, seven hundred, and forty three. Visible, at least. Four hundred of them were molting, shining brighter than the others. One was winking out, an old beetle that had lived its time. Two hundred more were hatching atop their mother's back, to crawl on the inner dome of Ganá:yeht.
Makaio was crying again. She could hear him from across the room of the longhouse. She made to rise-
But Tekahentakwa was already awake, already striding over to pick him up. She rocked him gently, whispering sweet promises to him, gently swayed until he had calmed down, and gone back to sleep.
Eksonis had been woken up, too. He looked over at Kehaulani. Shrugged.
It was a difficult thing to get used to. Before, they had been the only two to look after Makaio. The midwives had left the maternity house, visiting during the day, but most of the other metahumans had been called to work, unable to help them with the baby.
But now, it seemed like every single woman in the longhouse, in the community, was there. At both night and day. It was Tekahentakwa's turn to look after him tonight. Tomorrow, it would be someone else.
It takes a village, indeed.
She still wasn't used to it.
But she watched Tekahentakwa lower Makaio back to bed. The Clan Mother moved back over to her own bed. Her eyes met Kehaulani's. She smiled.
“Let him sleep,” her voice was a bare whisper, “Let him dream.”
Kehaulani closed her eyes. She heard – and felt – Eksonis shift, move over, cover her with his scaled arms, his snout resting in her hair. It was cold tonight. The fire had gone down to bare embers. Tekahentakwa would stoke it back to life soon enough.
...For the first time in a very long time, Kehaulani felt safe.
She went back to sleep.
Outside, Ganá:yeht stirred and shifted, as all planes do. Crickets chirped. Wolves howled at the ever-shifting moon. A few nocturnal metahumans moved through the forest. A few Oshya:de, too, teens who were at last able to run free through the prairies. The rivers churned. The lake shimmered with slivers of glass light.
The world was alive.