System Seven (56 page)

“Right now?” he asked.
“No one.”

“You’re waiting to see
how much of the Family falls.”

His expression grew
more severe. “The families are scattering, shifting. We are at our weakest.
Bràthair are fewer. Later we will rejoin and grow strong again. You are a
concern. You are not trained to shift.”

“So if they break
him–”

“We assume they will.
They will have a strong imprint to find you with.”

“Can’t Clare take over
and hide me?”

“No, she is bound to
you. If they scan, it will be your essence that responds.”

“Then what can I do?”

He hesitated. “I must
do it for you. Subjugation. Binding with a new brain and body will alter your
presence in Raon.”

“Please! You have got
to be kidding. We have to kill someone?”

“You and Clare are
central to everything. And right now, you are our best chance at finding Johan
and Maria.”

She was repulsed and
had to hug herself. “It cannot be someone innocent. I refuse to kill an
innocent.”

“No time.” Sean’s look
said that he understood the unfairness of the situation. “And for Cathbad it is
all a matter of time. Minutes, hours at most.” He paused, gone distant. “We
need to move. There is growing interest in this part of town and I don’t
believe in coincidence.”

“So either way
someone’s going to lose their life. No other options?”

Things were desperate
but thinking of knocking someone free made her sick. Sudden death, confusion –
a waking and unexpected nightmare. Then there would be their family’s
nightmare; a loved one thought kidnapped or perhaps run off to do who knows
what for no apparent reason. The uncertainty they’d feel... it turned her
stomach.

“When do we have to do
this?”

“Right away. Now.”

“We bring Johan?”

“We leave him. No,” he
held up a hand at her protest. “We must leave him.”

He headed inside.

Anki stood in the
bathroom doorway and looked at the upturned face that was again unrecognizable.
Johan’s metrics were new, the face a stranger. She’d come to say her goodbye
but couldn’t. Terenzio dabbed at the dye trickling down Johan’s face as
Cristina massaged his hair. The old woman met her gaze and softened.

“You cannot see him in
this,” she gestured to his body. “Do not try. See him in your heart. That is
where you will find him. And prepare yourself – if you see him again, it may
not be in this. Be strong, signorina. He will need you no matter what.”

She wanted to respond
but words failed her. It was as if he’d died and no one would tell her.

“Go,” Cristina waved
with plastic gloves dark with dye. “Take some parmigiana with you. Franco makes
the best parmigiana.”

Low, filmy clouds
perched over the sunlit beach like exotic gasses of another world. Sean and Anki drove along the seafront
boulevard of Lido di Ostia, fifteen miles from the Vatican, looking for a
target. She sat in the back seat behind tinted windows and scanned faces. The
search for terrorists kept some people home but not all.

Sean shook his head.
“Absolutely not.”

Plagued by guilt, she
had suggested an old woman sitting on an apartment balcony. The woman had less
to lose having lived a longer life.

Sean was losing
patience. “You need an agile body, not a fragile one.” His intention to act
rose. “We don’t have time, Anki.”

“I can’t stand hunting
like this. It’s absolutely horrible.”

They came upon a woman
fishing her purse for car keys outside the Belvedere Century hotel. Anki panicked
at Sean’s sudden sharp vibe. The car slowed to a stop.

“Anki, prepare.”

The woman stepped from
the curb to unlock her car.

Anki started to
protest but the world jerked to blackness, a shadowy non-ness that swallowed
sensation. The next instant the sun blinded her and something fumbled from her
hands. She caught her legs before they went out from under her. She stood
outside in a world filled with new colors and unfamiliar smells. A purse hung
from her shoulder. Car keys lay on the ground at her feet.

She shuddered at the
physical essence now ringing through her soul. Skin so sensitive, her arms and
legs thinner. She heard a whistle and saw Sean waving her over from the car.
She took two or three steps before balance and gait resolved.

She climbed into the
front seat and Sean drove off.

“You did very well,
Anki.”

“I– I didn’t
do
anything.” The voice was higher, more
feminine and flexible. She didn’t want to think of the magnitude of the theft
just performed or her part in it. She resisted the urge to turn around.

“I’m dead now. I’m
dead.” Panic rose despite herself.

“No, Anki, you are
alive.
It
is only a shell. The woman
you replaced is being cared for on her way to Gwynvyd. Soon she will
understand. She will be comforted beyond what we can imagine.”

She wanted to believe
him. Anything to keep the feeling of murder at bay. Still, she struggled with
it. The smell of loosened bowels made her want to be sick. Sean cracked all
four windows.

He looked over. “We
need to drop it off. No disrespect, Anki, but there will be nothing of a burial
or anything close to tradition.”

“I understand.” She
did and it seared to her core. The body in the backseat that she’d cared for
and lived in all her life would be discarded. The body she was in was now hers,
stolen from another. Yes, she understood – nothing would ever resemble normal
again.

She forced herself to
open the purse to learn who had lost everything so that they might win.

• • •

Father Keefe placed
his hands on the coffin and bowed his head.

“God our creator and
redeemer, by your power Christ conquered death and entered into glory.
Confident of his victory and claiming his promises, we entrust Phillip to your
mercy in the name of Jesus our Lord, who died and is alive and reigns with you,
now and forever. Amen.”

Edward stood as the
six-person choir began a hymn, joined by
the fifty or so gathered in the medieval church. Old Phillip Shaw’s funeral was
both an unavoidable obligation and a timely refuge from which he followed events
in Rome. He prayed for the many souls departing or being captured. Segmentation
helped stem the bleeding of ranks but the rate of the felling was far worse
than he’d imagined possible. There was no sure way yet to know whether
Cathbad’s plans had backfired or were in play, or if he’d even had a plan. He
prayed for either his safe return or graceful departure before they had use of
his core. The thought of it made him shift further. Sad as it was, there was
too much danger in staying even vaguely linked.

The Concord of
Ascension would be enacted soon if Cathbad didn’t break free. Leading the Runa
Korda in the Conflict would be an honor but only if it were in a state of
unity. Padrig and the others might contest his ascension, a grim prospect given
the scattering. To have the family warring now would make things impossible.

The singing ended.
Smoke wafted from a copper thurible as Father Keefe censed the coffin,
commending Phillip’s soul to rise to God. Edward knew for a fact it already
had.

He bowed his head not
to pray but to think. Details of the strike on Johan fit no pattern he’d ever
seen. To have overridden him suggested they’d mastered combining. What more
they might learn threatened everything.

Father Keefe finished
the commendation and addressed the congregation. He then passed down the aisle
with his three acolytes. The singing began again. Atop the coffin, an
arrangement of flowers seemed to droop under the weight of an uncertain and
troubled future.

Edward sighed. He
should have paid more respect to the funeral, to his friend’s memory, but there
wasn’t much choice. Phillip probably understood.

Twenty minutes later,
an attendant filed out after turning down the lights over the altar. Edward sat
alone in the church. Rain played against the stained glass windows. Somewhere
in the churchyard a set of chimes pealed low and thoughtful in the wind.
Inside, stillness pervaded so deep as to slow the heart. The church had always
had that effect on him.

Edward closed his eyes
and sought the edges of Gwynvyd. Its warmth and light lay just beyond the
barrier that contained all of life in the universe. With all his might he
stretched forward into it, only to feel infinity – and in that endlessness, his
mortal limits.

A messenger came then,
with a ghostly and quick delivery from the realm of Saoghal. Bràthair had found
the transport depot in the Persian Gulf, along the coast of Qatar. They were
following a tunnel in search of the base.

Decisions loomed
suddenly, each with its own possible outcome. The trackways were vague, harder
to sense. There were so many variables, so many possibilities. Soon he would
have to choose.

Edward opened his eyes
and stared at the figure of Jesus hanging on the cross. For an instant it was Austin’s
face he saw, suffering in pain.

A man’s subconscious self is not the ideal companion. It
lurks for the greater part of his life in some dark den of its own, hidden
away, and emerges only to taunt and deride and increase the misery of a
miserable hour.
-P.G. Wodehouse, 1881 – 1975, British Novelist

A storm front
stretched across the Aegean Sea and blew sheets of rain on the patio roof.
Lightning flashed and thunder shook the villa’s timbers. Tasia worked on
preparing breakfast for Gus while Austin sat on the couch watching the news, a
half-eaten bowl of cereal on the coffee table. On screen, the Pope made a
special entreaty to all organizations with power – governments, corporations,
militaries, terrorist groups, and gangs – to cease hostilities and work on
behalf of all people to restore civility and order to the world.

Tasia clucked and
shook her head.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said,
stirring scrambled eggs. She nodded at the television. “I’m only thinking how
sad.”

Nothing...
right
. He suspected the housekeeper knew
more than he did. Segmentation was one thing – information blackout was
another. Johan hadn’t reached out to him since Maria arrived at Mykonos. Gus
would have to give him an update of substance. The truth, in any case.

A report began that
covered the situation in Rome, including the Vatican bomb search. Seeing the
brightly colored guards bearing machine guns seemed wrong, like court jesters
readying for war. He felt like a fool himself, sitting on his hands not doing a
damn thing to stop any of it. Holding back was taking its toll, adding to an
already emotional morning.

Gus arrived for
breakfast. He issued greetings to Austin and Tasia as he passed through the
kitchen. Austin followed and leaned against the entry to the white-tiled
breakfast nook. Gray light fell from a circular skylight in the ceiling.
Windows looked out on a row of grape trellises with barren vine leaves
fluttering in the wind. He studied the old druid and could tell he hadn’t slept
well, if at all.

“Good morning, Gus. I
was–”

“Before you start,
have a seat.” He scooped eggs onto his toast and took a bite. He waited for Austin
to sit. “You’re right, I haven’t told you what’s happening and for good reason.
The Korda is on the run. Scattering. Necessary when the Comandanti are hunting
and hunting they are. They’ve captured Cathbad.”

“
What?
”

“And Johan, too.”

He anchored himself to
the table and tried to absorb the implications. “Maria turned on them?”

“Possibly, or she was
discovered. We have Johan’s body. He’s been severed from it. But Cathbad...
they have him.”

“Where?” Intention and
potential swirled.

Gus held up a fork.
“Settle yourself.” He raised both brows in challenge until Austin nodded his
understanding. “He was last seen entering Vatican City. No trace of him there
now.”

“They’ll take him to
their base. Bastion wants to see his prize. I need to know where it is. You
know where it is, don’t you?”

Gus returned his gaze.
“You have a more immediate problem to deal with. Your shift training. It’s time
to use it.” He drank his coffee. “Tasia will help you. Go now. You’re taking
twice the bràthair to shield until you shift.”

Austin recalled the
thousands of souls fleeing Montevideo, cast out of life, and all those lost in
Istanbul, Johannesburg, and Miami. He thought of the billions of people lured
into ignorance and compliance by systems that limited potential and preserved
suffering. And now more death, a massive trending tied directly to him. Guilt
fired anger again, accompanied by fear. Intention rose. He would kill Bastion,
rescue Cathbad, and lay waste to the Comannda’s core.

Gus shook his head at
the rising vibe. “This is not the time for emotional indulgence. Either contain
yourself or I’ll have you drugged. It’s hard enough to keep you off the radar
as it is. Now focus, damn it. Go work with Tasia. We’ll talk only after you’re
done.”

• • •

The wind carried a
river of hot sand around Johan’s sitting form. Atop a dune, with hood drawn and
eyes closed against the endless dry world, he wished for sleep, for a daydream,
for any release from the punishment of the sameness surrounding him.

Instead, nothing
changed.

Not the angle of the
sun, the temperature, the degree of his thirst, the shape of the dunes, or the
color of the cloudless sky. Nothing moved except the sand and wind, and even
those he found ran in patterns. The landscape held no vibe, no echo of
character other than his own. He was alone and isolated beyond anything he’d
imagined possible, completely locked into a physical experience with no hope of
escape.

No change.

No chance of sleep.

No relief.

It was the exact
opposite of what he’d come to know. Imagination lacked, intuition failed,
inspiration flat lined. He could no more leave for Saoghal than he could fly
from the desert or cool the hot winds. Something had claimed his soul. Doubts
formed about it being Bastion and his korjé, combined or not. It was the most
complete state he’d ever experienced, unlike any dream or waking state in
memory.

For the hundredth time
he attempted to scour the edges of what passed as reality. As before, he found
only what five senses could gather. It left him feeling plastic, an accessory
for the scene. Purpose waned. Memory of the Conflict stirred him less and less.
Time had stopped its march and left him to die.

He forced air across
his vocal chords just to experience change. The mournful sound matched the
useless feeling that had taken hold. Distantly he knew the apathetic state was
a form of surrender. He stirred and opened his eyes, unwilling to give in. The
sand flow mesmerized, encouraging inaction. He started to chant. Long, measured
intonations to restore a sense of control. Should an opportunity come, he had
to be empowered and sharp enough to act.

Distant dunes restored
spatial clarity, reminding him of Raon and of his meta presence. Even in such a
solidly crafted bubble, something of his meta had to exist. Knowledge of that
existence proved an irrefutable reinforcement.

The chant morphed into
a muttered declaration: “I am alive.”

Silence followed. He
drew out each word again.

“I. Am.
Alive
.”

The desert suddenly
filled with the sense of another. From absence to singular otherness, the
difference was unmistakable. He clambered to his feet and turned in a circle,
scanning.

Nothing seen, yet the
feeling remained. Someone was in the world with him.

He prepared to sit
again when he saw a dark patch at the bottom of the dune. He descended, dashing
sand in great leaps before falling and rolling several times. He approached a
brown patch and caught a glimpse of a hooded face. Close in, the beard was
unmistakably that of old Cathbad.

He fell to his knees
and brushed sand away. “Cathbad!”

The old man opened his
eyes, squinting. He frowned upon seeing Johan. “I’m coming to understand your
gift, Gerrit.”

“You are, huh?” Johan
scooped sand away from his head and shoulders. “And what is it?”

“Your greatest gift,”
he spat sand, “is finding trouble.”

Johan reached under to
help lift Cathbad to a sitting position. “I thought you already knew.”

“I’m sure of it now.”

Johan finished
clearing sand from Cathbad’s legs and sat next to him. “Here to rescue me, are
you?” At the druid’s glance, he said, “You tried, didn’t you? Yes, well nice
thought anyway. Any idea where we are?”

“In the belly of a
beast, it seems. I think we’ve been taken in by a dark horse.”

“What do you mean?”

Cathbad shrugged and
looked up at the dunes. “Bastion’s managed an extraordinary advance with his
korjé. He’s taken the lead.”

“Why did you come
then?”

“Things are falling
apart. Without you, the Words fail.”

“Well, I can’t do a
damn thing here and now you’re stuck, too.”

“Yes. It feels quite
absolute, doesn’t it? “ Cathbad paused. “Then all we can do is explore.”

“There’s nothing but
desert and sky. Not a seam anywhere. I’ve tried and tried.”

Cathbad shook his
head. “I mean explore the beast, not the belly.”

Johan looked downwind.
His shadow fell predictably stark against the sunlit sand. Blue sky met dunes
in a sloping line across the horizon. Cathbad was right, the holders of the
dream were directly accessible by the very nature of their position of control.
They could not ignore the pair despite the illusion of desolation. The
challenge was to find the right message to ignite contact. Contact could lead
to clues to their methods.

“No need to waste time
with introductions. Either they’ll be interested in also helping us or they
won’t be. We can only try.”

“Given that, might we
surmise they aren’t?” Johan gestured to the dunes. “We’re still here.”

“We’ve not begun, have
we?” His glance was sour. Hope did not like being stepped on.

Johan turned to him
and bowed. “Then lead the way.”

“No. I think you should. You’re much better at
arresting attention.”

Johan managed a smile.
“Of course. Being the Change and all. Well then, we start by filing a
compliment.” He faced the sun. Through squinted eyes, he focused on what he
couldn’t see. “Um, greetings captors and fellow sentients. We are humbled in
your presence. Your mastery of Saoghal is complete and awe inspiring.”

Cathbad grunted at the
sarcasm in his tone.

It was pure defense,
masking his fear. He set it aside and let seriousness settle in. Emotions rose,
real feelings.

“I do not know why
you’ve chosen to work with the Comannda or what else you may have done to the
people of our planet, but I know you understand why I seek your counsel.”

Sand blew in familiar
patterns from the soulless wind. Nothing changed. He coughed in the sameness.
Confidence glitched. Cathbad stared up at him.

He lowered his head.
Truth would have to suffice.

“Until recently, I had
assumed that people capable of reading minds and dream walking would tend to be
of a higher moral fiber, that they would have somehow evolved beyond the primal
flaws found in most men. Why I imagined standards so high I don’t know. Maybe
wishful thinking after watching technology evolve without people also evolving.
I wanted to believe there was hope for us, that we had room to grow. Well, this
is my wake up call. The human mind has been exploited like another technology.
You’re working with the Council and proving that humans are still quite capable
of being flawed despite possessing such great knowledge.”

The desert’s vibe held
nothing except his and Cathbad’s meta pulse. Emotions carried away in the wind.

Johan turned from the
sun to stare at his shadow. “While you sit behind the walls of this... this
container and listen to me ramble, billions of souls are wrapped up in a play
machine for the Comannda and its privileged minority. The Council has
controlled its slaves for four millennia. Slaves like you. Now, with your
effort, our world tips towards a new kind of hell.” He stared at the horizon,
at the line between sky and sand... and he
became
the seam there – pressed against the face of whoever was holding them. “Tell me
you don’t think there’s a better way.”

The edges of reality
shimmered and he caught the first hint of others. Focus snapped back to the
mundane heat and sun and drying wind. The horizon remained the same.

“You had something
there,” Cathbad called out.

He had. Or was given
the thought he had. For a long time he stood, awaiting a response.

None came.

He shuffled back and
sat down heavily.

“Not bad for a first
try,” Cathbad offered.

“Perhaps.”

The desert continued
to bake them. Heat lulled, slowing thoughts.

Was it imagination
that he felt tired? He entertained the feeling and laid down with his back to
the flowing sand. Whatever the reason, it felt good to imagine being close to
falling asleep. So good.

He emerged from the
darkness to a neck cramp. With his eyes still closed, he felt the sand beneath
him and then, vividly, felt awkward – something was missing, the absence of it
alarming.

His eyes flicked open.
He realized what it was: the sand flow was gone. The wind had died. He pushed
into a sitting position. Something else, too, bothered him.

Cathbad looked over.
“Long nap. Did you dream?”

The
shadows
. He looked up and saw the sun
hung at a new angle.

“What’s the matter,
man? What is it?”

Johan explained the
unchanging nature of the world and the sudden change. And his unexpected sleep.