Chapter 6.

Dereniik made it to the central through-fair before dancing black spots and an accompanying shortness of breath forced him to collapse to a convenient stone bench.

Placed strategically at the edge of a small park, a tinkling fountain styled to represent a waterfall drew his eye as clouded vision cleared. The park was a popular place to visit. Although not one he would have chosen. If he had a choice. A few youths lounged on the spongy Moss covering the ground. A mother unsuccessfully encouraged a small child away from the gentle flowing water meandering along an artificial stream bed. Manicured foliage stagnant with heavy perfume contrived to imitate a natural environment.

Overhead a myriad galaxy opals, each reflecting hidden worlds, sparkled from the towering, vaulted ceiling. Ceramic Flitters perched on overhead branches and a couple of sculpted mythical creatures cavorted over springy ground cover. One, a creative variation of a Symayaan, if his memory served him correctly, had not weathered the passage of time and a small rock protrusion was now all that remained.

Dereniik shuddered. The Park was a shallow reminder of the world outside the complex tunnels and caverns of the City of Chruciaal. Carved deep into the cliff face of a plateau the city was the Capital of the coalition and subsequently the entire world. Or as much of the world that mattered. Overhead luminescent biophyte tendrils placed in swaths admirably replicated the wavering arura, swaying in the gentle air that circulated through artfully contrived vents. This walkway boosted a soaring ceiling ornately flared resembling Flitter wings.

Breathing with difficulty, Dereniik fought and brought his racing heart back under control. Initially physical pain, the need to survive, and lead Kyd to safety had all served as a buffer in the aftermath of his team’s slaughter. He hadn't seen them all die and kept hoping some of the others had made it out alive much longer than reasonable.

When the numbness and shock faded, guilt surfaced. Why had he and Kyd survived? The rest of his team and hundreds of others, men women and children, perished in quivering heartbeats. And could Kyd’s existence even be considered life. Exiled unendingly in the Void, with communication and interaction with the physical world limited, it was a miracle he had lasted the last eleven months. Even with Dereniik’s loss of limbs, chronic pain and health issues he was still better off than Kyd.

It the nine days since they had last spoken a constant unspoken dread lurked morosely in the back his mind. Dereniik was powerless over so much of his own life, had no control over another’s. Always a deeply private introvert, Kyd valued solitude, resenting perceived intrusion.

So Dereniik waited. It was an unsatisfactory situation. Kyd refusal to be cajoled into a scheduled time or place to meet was inconvenient, but he often passed this way. The need to use a personal room interrupted his watch, a smattering of gossip gleaned from passing Godmothers was noted with interest and deducting the various tasks energetic D’char were involved with, occupied his time.

Dereniik noted a familiar mental presents heartbeats before his introverted teammate made himself known.

“Well met my friend.” Dereniik spoke at a measured pace, pitched his voice low.

The feather light tracing of the glyph for acknowledgement was traced on his forearm.

In any other conversation questions about one's health or activities would follow. But Kyd’s Physical state had moved beyond the realms of rational explanation and even when his teammate had possessed a material body his reticent nature had not encouraged idle discussion.

“My friend, I have been commissioned to investigate the identity of a dead commander I would value your insights and assistance.” A few more commissions could only help boost Kyd’s ebbing self-esteem.

The single glyph refusal was screwed onto his arm.

“What do you mean ‘no’. It's an easy job. At least hear the details.”

Dereniik wasn’t just Kyd only surviving teammate, he was the only one who still knew the man was alive. Kyd had always considered the anonymity of Invisibility its greatest asset.

“No, not interested.”

Frustrated Dereniik attempted to think of a word expressing his surprise and irritation. Decided instead to settle for an explanation.

“May I inquire as to your reasoning on this matter?”

“You. Almost. Died.”

1. There's been a lot of that, almost dying. His most recent investigation had almost been his last. But, according to the Healers, that situation was inevitable, soon. Finding small mysteries to solve had made the last few months of life meaningful, preferable to idleness.

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And much better then dwelling on a past that couldn't be changed.

***

Just to the left of the doorway into Viky suite was a perfect location for a comfortable bench. It was also a good place to observe events unfolding among the other eight dwellings surrounding a circular moss-covered public area. Looking in the other direction afforded her a view of the broad central tunnel on this level. If she timed it right no one ever noticed her leave.

Isobeel and Tu’shii were currently huddled together on the green. From the snatches of conversations that drifted in the slight air currents the conversation was political, rhetoric from one of the Godmothers. Maneuvering, posturing, and power plays held no interest to Viky.

But noticing the subtle emerging dynamics within the fledgling Sisterhood had become a recent pastime. One she had not anticipated she would need or enjoy. After she had chosen him, Jieleen had mentioned his first bondmate had died in childbirth. His concern had been she would be superstitious, thinking he had been cursed with bad luck, and it may rub off on her. Viky had laughed.

She had not considered the difficulty establishing her independence with a group of women who had already been together a full rotation. The expectation to fit in with their established patterns and join the group mentality was nauseating. But then they had all helped her, in so many unexpected small and generous ways. They were not a bad bunch of women, but wanted to share, emotionally and physically. And everything, all the time. And some things, so many things, were personal, painfully private.

Shaah was entertaining a handful of the toddlers. Showing them how to stack the colourful set of blocks into different patterns. The little girl’s skills were questionable, but Shaah, who found it hard to sit still and hated to be bord herself, wasn’t critical. She kept the game interesting by adapting her designs and randomly tipping the whole structure over, much to the delight of her actively engaged audience.

The spongy moss had seen births celebrated, babies’ milestones reached, Maddie’s parent’s memorial service, naming ceremonies, and even Jess’ last miscarriages purification ritual.

“Any sign of them yet?” Jess emerged from next door. Her toddler Hannaraay sprinting off to join block de-construction game.

Viky’s doorway’s position also gave her advanced notice when the men return from work.

“No, it’s too early, are you limping?”

Jess blushed, “A little, it’s nothing.”

“What’s wrong?” Can I help?” Viky scooted along the bench making room for the least annoying of her sisters.

“It’s nothing to worry about, but thank you, I’m fine. Tu’shiii took our suggestion well. I think she was trying to not show how excited she was.” Sitting, Jess adroitly changed the subject.

“I thought you would have Isobeel suggest it. She always seems to be able to convince people of doing what she wants.”

Jess was thoughtful, “Yes, but most of us speculat she has some sort of Nudging ability, so suggestions from her are always suspect.”

So, they all knew, and no one had thought to warn her. Left her to figure it out for herself. Viky tried not to let her mind dwell on it. What else were they not sharing?

“Do you have any idea what our men do all day?” Viky’s gaze returned to the broad tunnel outside the enclave.

“‘Commanders Business,’ specifics are not required, and speculation is discouraged. We were all called to the Godmother’s and received a reprimand when Shaah and Sheeli attempted to follow their Bondmate’s and see where they worked the first rotation we were here.”

Viky nodded, had heard the same story as a warning from Tu’shiii, perceived consolation from Maddie and gossip from Isobeel. Or in Maddie’s case Viky inferred it to be a reference to the same story, if you ignored half the drama some of the details had been vaguely similar.

Answers not forth coming, observation and deduction were her resources.

The men were still training, whispered of learning, and improving skills. The work had to be physically demanding, they all had impressive musculature but didn’t exercise at home. Discreetly questioning her sister’s revealed all the men wore variations of purple fractals on their chest. And the compulsory fractal on each shoulder in and Mirro and Jeileen case had been augmented by an additional one mid-way down the backs.

None of the men were what she would describe as intellectually inclined, but were well respected, indicating the work was considered important. They didn’t always work together but separated regularly into three groups of three. Jieleen working with his friends Mirro and Stepaan. During Bakaada, a nine-day meal celebrated with the entire Sisterhood and families, the men often gravitated into the subgroups. The distinctions were obvious.

As they watched, a D’char, laboring under a yoke with large amphoras of water, stepped out from the ninth opposite their circle of homes. The servant came every day and filled a water tank, cleverly disguised as a sculpture and sitting flush against the tunnel walls. Pipes, cunningly shaped as trailing vines and complementing the design, gravity feed the central tap used to supply households of her sisterhood with fresh water.

Thrilled to work the system out, Viky’s appreciation grew when she realized all the households on the second level were supplied with water by similar systems. It was such a waste that most of the city was uninhabited. Entire enclaves on multiple levels, richly ornamented but sterile and empty. Valuable knowledge and resources not available to her people back in The Rifts.

Lugging water up a vertical cliff face was nobody’s favorite job.

“Previous to you showing me the secret tunnels I thought the regularly placed trapezoid structures support columns.” Jess took her eyes off the laboring servant to check her daughter as excited squeals filled the air. Shaah had the children jumping the blocks now.

“They possibly serve multiple functions, could be structural as well as concealing the tunnel entries and shortcuts.” Another world just waiting for her further exploration.

A woman of middle year Viky had only met once saunter passed. Glancing at Viky and Jess with a haughty disapproving stare. Continuing without returning the hand greeting or smiles she continued to stand outside the next cluster of dwellings. Then loitered, pretending to inspect the script on a decorative menhir.

Waiting for someone Viky guessed.

“What do you think of her?” Jess asked.

“I guess I don’t think of her. Why?”

Jess shrugged. “I don’t know, but she’s trouble.”

Viky fixed the woman’s face more clearly in mind. “Do you know her name?”

“Sequees, I think.”

Viky nodded, Jess would be right. She repeated the name to herself several times. Imagining an introduction, using the name in an invented conversation, attaching Jesses perception to the newly created memories. It always paid to take Jesses impressions of people seriously and unless Viky made a conscious effort to retain personal details that sort of information didn’t stick in her head.

People were both more complicated and not as interesting as the written word.