Chapter 185: The Door to Harmony

Sen stepped out from the portal, Theodore and Roscoe in tow. Roscoe was whisper quiet, disappearing to complete his contracted task, or simply excused himself than dealing with the simmering darkness of Sen’s frustration. Perhaps both.

Theodore was not so lucky, standing awkwardly, hands and legs both twitching like an addict searching for a fix to soothe the nerves—his crafting tools, a hammer. Feelings and reassurances had never been an area of strength. If it had, perhaps his small party of former friends would not have split so. He eventually settled for sitting against a wall, staring ever so often at Sen like he was a bomb that’d explode, and one that was far too close for comfort.

Sen did not think himself calm nor emotional. He was in this, rather ordinary. He had recently turned 20, finally out of the teen years his teammates would fondly tease him for, although they’d never actually treated him as a teenager: The outworlders had less experience in this world than he, and everyone was more than aware.

Erras did not celebrate birthdays, Sen had to explain for the second year in a row, there was no need for this. But Nara had selective hearing and had given him an assortment of local seeds and offered him a plot for his own garden in the nebula flask—on that would live and die by his own merit (with exceptions to being gone for long periods of time, as it was an inevitable expectation of adventuring work.) They were mostly flower seeds, of course, because Nara thought the point was that it was fun, and not so that the end product could be eaten.

Within the bags were snowdrops, catwhiskers, pheonixdown (their brilliant reds and oranges favored for their contrast against the white of snow), hellebores, winterberries, and finally the seeds of the crystalline variety that grew within Kallid’s crystalline forest. Those must’ve been expensive, Sen knew, and would be a genuine challenge to cultivate, if it was possible at all outside of Kallid’s specific ecosystem.

If it was possible, it’d be possible in the soil of a house made of the breath of stars.

Nara gave him a smirking grin—it was never so brilliant and charming as Encio’s, or as enchanting as Eufemia’s—but it was a smile he grew to know. “Anyway, if you succeed, my house will look all the better for it. So is this really a gift to you, or a gift to me?”

John had gotten him a wristwatch, one John had picked out, but Nara had fetched from Stanton. She had taken a photo crystal to record all his options, and John had carefully chosen one from hundreds. “Wristwatches aren’t so popular here, nor are they made in remotely the same way,” John had explained, “but it’s a classic gift, from one friend to another or from a father to a son. You’re not my son—” John explained quickly “—I respect you as an equal. We lead the way for one another. And this…this will at least tell you the time.”

It was unexpectedly solemn, but John had never been afraid of being genuine or kind, of showing both vulnerability and strength. He respected that in John, who saw strength in kindness, earnestness, and emotion.

Sen, still in the center of the room, feeling both young and aged, bitterly hot and burning cold, wondered if the world would ever stop stealing his teammates away from him. All of them were at risk: John and Nara, for their nature; Encio and Eufemia, for their political import; and Aliyah, for her research accomplishments.

And, he thought, eyes fixed to where the portal had once been, his gaze of tempered wrath, what he could do to stop it from happening again.

In the mausoleum of an ancient, still-living king, a bronze light burned.

*****

“That idiot is going to get herself killed.”

Eufemia was sprawled back over a couch, hair hanging in waves of red over the lip of an armrest. Her clothes were equally insouciant, loose ‘joggers’ and a plain tee. Sage had helpfully explained the infuriating situation to all of them: that somehow Nara got herself consensually kidnapped and could conduct an impromptu spy session in the enemy’s home world! Eufemia was only a little bit worried, and at least they had Sage to act as an intermediary.

It could’ve been worse. They could’ve all been abducted. That would’ve been a disaster. From two teammates kidnapped to one was a distinct and quantitative improvement.

“Can Nara even act as a spy?” John questioned, in a tone of polite-yet-concerned doubt. He was trying not to doubt his teammate’s competency too harshly, but Nara wasn’t known for her wile and deception. “She’ll probably, hopefully, be fine but…Political maneuvering was never her strength. She’d not terrible at it. Competent enough in a negotiation—”

“—Where all sides are trying to make it work,” Eufemia added a condition. “Has she ever negotiated with anyone that wasn’t willing to compromise to begin with?”

“That’s how negotiations work,” Encio disagreed. (Just to be contrary against her, she suspected!) “There would be no negotiation if there was no willingness for discussion.”

“Not if someone there is trying to sabotage the negotiations!” Eufemia shot back. Sen stared them both down, to prevent their jibes from devolving into an argument. Fine. Kidnapped teammate was more important. Although—unless they wanted to pass instructions to Sage or have her smuggle an item across dimensions, there was not much they could do. The day to day lied within Nara’s dubiously capable hands.

“Nara would not be too poor of a spy,” Sen said contemplatively.

Ha, well…surprisingly, Eufemia then agreed with him. Then Encio did. That damn mimic.

“Am I missing something?” John said, gaze shifting between his team. “I don’t doubt Nara’s capabilities generally, I just established that, but she’s not the sharpest tool in the spy shed. If I had to pick a spy, I’d pick Eufemia, or Encio.” He nodded at both of them, trying to indicate their members more capable of espionage.

Well, obviously, they didn’t have the chance to pick. She’d be her first choice too.

“Encio would be as poor in espionage as he would be in stealth,” Eufemia said, intended as an insult. (although, she could admit that he could manage stealth as an ambush tactic. Briefly. He’d serve better as a defender; his infuriating voice and face was the perfect, attractive target.)

“I manage,” Encio said, baselessly confident. Ugh.

“Nara can’t be a right sneak when she wants to, I don’t disagree with that,” John said. “But I’ve seen greater capacity for guile in a toddler.” He would know. He’d raised two. Lovely as they were, toddlers were terrors.

“Nara is a good spy because she’s never acting,” Eufemia said, deciding to finally explain her reasoning—although, only John seemed to be struggling. Sen and Encio were unsurprisingly quick on the uptake. “She may lie—may, in that she’s capable of it at all—but her actions are always honest. The ‘deceit’ is that her honestly obscures her indifference. There is no deceit because she cares not to deceive. She will never slip up because there is nothing to reveal.” (Never is perhaps an exaggeration.) She smirked, ruby eyes catching light of the natural lighting of the house. “They’ll look for suspicion, but all they will find is normality.”

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“So…” John slowly said, as if trying to reason out a particularly confusing world puzzle. “Nara is a great spy…because she won’t actually do any spying?”

“Depends on what you consider ‘spying’.” Encio reasoned. “In most cases simply being in the right place where the information you need is discussed is good enough. An information gatherer. A party wallflower.”

Eufemia held up a finger, a stark monument in the air of her declaration (overdramatic in the casualness of the gathering): “I will bet a gold coin that Nara will never go anywhere she wasn’t given permission to enter. Or,” she amended, “she will never think to go to locations she is prohibited from going in the first place. Any takers? Encio?” She challenged. Hm, this challenge Encio wouldn’t pass up. Even Eufemia wasn’t entirely sure whether Nara would manage some genuine breaking and entering and theft of national secrets.

He narrowed his eyes. “I think she’ll manage a single location. She’ll be found. No punishments, obviously. They’ll not see a point to it.”

“Ah, so you agree with the rest of my assessment,” she concluded, smug.

“I know you have skill, Eufemia,” Encio said, chin tilted up, “There’s no need to prove it to me.”

If Sen had said that, it would have been reassuring. When Encio said that, it was aggravating. Aggravating to Eufemia, at least, but she enjoyed their game of mutually pushing buttons.

*****

After a little less than a week and a half, Nara decided it was time for a more direct approach. Her arbitrary, half panicked two-week time limit was approaching, and unless Nara wanted to spend an indeterminate amount of time gaining The Advent’s trust and drip feeding them tomes of knowledge, Nara had to do something drastic: She was going to have to be proactive. Yulia was helpful enough to suggest to Nara that she talk with Elder Orchis for more information on harmonization and the absence of the gods, and to dispel any reservations she had on those two topics (for the former topic, dispelling any reservations was impossible.)

So that is what she did.

She had to organize a meeting: Elder Orchis was a busy woman, engaged constantly in matters of state. She had expected to have her questions addressed by another, but it was, surprisingly, Elder Orchis who met with her out front the Harmony Core, impeccably styed as a mature but fresh politician as always, not a hair coiffed out of place. Hm, or did her hair just grow like that? Was that possible?

“Orchis. Thank you for meeting with me.” She didn’t use Orchis’ title, but the Elder took in in stride, uncaring. It felt wrong to use Orchis’ title, in a way that her mind rebelled against. She wasn’t her Elder, and Nara didn’t want her to be. It felt like ceding power. Like standing a step below.

“Nara, of course, I’m here for whatever concerns you may have. I’ve heard you say you are unable to accept the influence of The Harmony within yourself,” she said, in her businesslike kind and experienced way that just managed to avoid patronizing.

That set off the conversation; they wandered out of Harmony Core, into the nearby gardens and city center. A streetside snack shop sold a box worth of savory, crispy spheres, and they went on their way. She tossed a few to Thanatos, his black maw snapping them up without missing, and followed along, a loyal shadow (who would’ve sniffed at shit if there was any on the ground.)

“Heard me say—” she realized, “—the bracelets? And will that change my treatment here?” Nara already suspected that the bracelets had some function of recording, but this had confirmed it.

Orchis smiled, not exactly warm, but at least reassuring. “The bracelets record sound and when they are within range of an information repository crystal, a copy of the information is copied over,” she pre-emptively explained. “Not ‘real-time’, if that was your suspicion. Regarding your treatment; Acceptance of The Harmony has always been voluntary. Nothing will change, but you understand if you cannot be permitted in position of power.”

“I’ve never wanted something like that anyway. I’m not much of a politician.”

“There is not as much political maneuvering as you may expect on other worlds, such as Sanshi. Or your own. We have not yet found a world with as smooth and equitable a political system as ours.” Her tone wasn’t bragging, nor overly proud, as if it was just a plain profession of fact. A very biased fact, in Nara’s opinion.

“The astral magic book…was it helpful?”

“We understand your concerns of ‘outliving your usefulness’,” Orchis assured, assuming the reason for this line of inquiry. Whatever she saw in Nara’s aura must’ve satisfied her. “Come, let us return to the Harmony Core. There may be something there that will address your concerns.”

They weaved back through the paved streets of the neat and busy city. Chrome had avoided walking outside in Conchordia; whether he just disliked showing himself amongst them, or for some other reason, she was not sure. Sage similarly stayed out of sight, although it was to avoid drawing notice that one of her bodies was missing.

Standing once again outside the glittering skyscraper, Nara spared a brief moment to take in the structure and all it stood for, and stepped inside it for what she hoped was the final time.

*****

“How have you been adjusting to your situation? Are there any deficiencies in hospitality that we may address?” Orchis asked to fill the silence as Nara was led somewhere deep within the building.

“The students don’t like me much.” Nara thought back to some of the encounters she has had with the guardians-in-training: not just her temporary team, but also the other ones in the training facility.

“We can assign you to another team, if you wish.”

“Oh, they’re fine.” As much as a healthily suspicious team would be with an assigned interloper with less than two weeks of icebreaking. “I was talking about all the guardians, in general.”

“Ah,” Orchis said with a knowing tone. “You are a reminder of the less…beauteous aspects of The Advent.”

She hummed, thinking out loud. “Is that why you let me interact with them?”

Orchis gave her a sly, knowing smile. “We could hardly stop you. We did not restrict your freedom, as you asked. But yes,” she mused, “your presence was an opportunity to challenge our younger siblings. We may pose hypothetical situations in our mirages, but the disharmony of falsehood cannot be entirely removed. The decisions made there do not hold the same weight as ones made with real consequence, with their ink blotting the scores of their song.”

“They don’t much like to acknowledge that their world tortures people.”

“I can see that is a sticking point,” Orchis acknowledged.

Nara snorted derisively.

“We are not so fixed as you may think, Nara. There is no place for stagnation in progress,” Orchis said as her crystal bracelet briefly glowed, admitting the two of them down some corridor. Nara flexed her dimension perception to make sure that her astral jumping would still work. So far, open borders. “Our values will shift, and the decisions made in our Harmonic Council determine our policy for external harmonization. We’ve reconsidered the use of Nightmare Beetles, and how their purpose undermines the consensual acceptance we would have of harmony. While we may use…coercive methods to achieve unification, coercive harmonization is counter to our goals.

“It is not the same situation, your experiences at the hands of a Great Astral Being, but we can understand how the invasion of your body and sanctuary would predispose against future integration of the mind and soul. As such, the use of Nightmare Beetles has been banned against all entities in Advent operations.”

Nara sucked in a breath and released it, surprised at this admittance of fault, for what it’s worth. She should not give them too much credit; if Nightmare Beetles consistently caused aversion to harmonization, then it was counter to The Advent’s ultimate goal. “Regardless of how I disagree with your policy of external harmonization, I think that’s the right decision.” At least, if they kept their promises, no one else would have to suffer like she had in their hands. They’d just use any number of other destructive tortures. Ones that didn’t lower statistics of harmonization.

“Additionally, the Council would like to extend a formal apology for its use.”

“I’d rather not. Keeping it banned is apology enough. Actions speak louder than words, and all that. Although I wouldn’t mind seeing you all humble yourselves.”

Not that they were ever particularly arrogant, except Ceram. She’s seen worse in teenagers in Sanshi. They were impassioned, maybe, but not arrogant. At least, not unsubstantiated arrogance. If they’d unified a world (or several worlds), that was a significant achievement. God knows how Earth as struggled with it, and how fraught with political pitfalls that particular idea was as well.

“Indeed,” Orc his acknowledged wryly, “You’ve taught us that lesson.”

The hallways widened and the floors changed into a material even more immaculate. The tiling was a mesmerizing geometric pattern so intricate it was like Venetian Lace; sweeping designs that were more flowing than formulaic but struck an impossible balance between chaos and order.

Rather than the golds, silvers, blacks, and whites of the floor tiling, similarly intricate but rainbow mosaics scaled the walls that now curved into tall, elegant arches, with the sort of calculated mathematical arch that was the substratum truly aesthetic design. It was an explosion of color shy of overwhelming: their harmony had never been about conforming, but cooperation. Well, a rather loose definition of cooperation, but Nara had seen just as varied personalities on Premiesta as she has seen on Earth and on Erras.

If all that wasn’t enough to clue Nara in on the significance of where Orchis was leading her, the grand doors before her were a poster shoved up against her face. Delicately beautiful, and made entirely of colored glass, the light of something beyond pulsed through the doors. The rainbow light scattered across the grey of the floor, adding another shifting layer to its complexity.

“Come, Nara.” Orchis turned to Nara, her beckoning hand the haunting pull of a twilight spirit. “Allow me to show you The Harmony.”