68: Rand

I look up from the datapad.  “He’s right.”  I pick up the stack of cards from the table.  “Even though I don’t know any of them, I’m not jealous.  When I look at them, I feel affection and a sense of pride at their accomplishments.”

Tara looks at me skeptically.  “It doesn’t bother you at all?”

“Well, it does rather highlight my lack of experience, but if anything, it inspires me.”  Especially the cards with the gold leaf: Daniel, Sloane, Patrick, Cüinn, Jamey, Ailann, Cillian, Lorcan, Hurley, Ari, Aran, Seth, and the two Jacks, although oddly, Whirljack’s card only has gold on the right edge, mirrored by Blackjack’s, which has gold on the left.  The golden boys, she called them.  I want so badly to be one of them.

I pull Patrick’s card from the deck.  Not only is it gold, it’s also enormously elaborate.  He’s everything an emanation would aspire to be: both a sexual and romantic success, and, in addition, enormously useful to Tara.  “Yes,” I murmur, “I can see exactly why Quennel would have that reaction.”  I think back to the memory in Lens’ branch, Patrick holding Axel, comforting him…an act of sweet brotherhood, and yet, at the same time, he was very much getting off on Axel’s excitement.  Patrick is such a good-natured man that we tend to forget one of the qualifications for a diplomat is to be a manipulator.  Patrick is a master manipulator.  He’s the most dangerous of us all.  He’s the one with the license to murder.

I’m getting an erection.  His tree is in another galaxy, which means I don’t have a chance in hell of pollinating him.  Cillian would think I’m a terrible pervert.  I put the card down before Tara notices.  “Ah, in any case, it’s still so frustrating,” I say, changing the topic.  “I feel like I’m so close to understanding.  There are only a few pieces missing.”

“There’s not much of the journal left, only the end of the entry when I went inside.  I don’t know if it will be at all helpful.  It’s just about my encounter with Thomas.”

“I might as well…”

I never finish the thought.  Instead, I collapse onto the floor, doubled over in sudden pain, more pain than I ever could’ve imagined.  For a moment, I’m disoriented.  I can’t find the location or cause of my agony.  And then I understand.  “Ashvattha,” I gasp.

I focus my concentration on the giant nau’gsh.  It’s being attacked by six men with axes.

It takes only a thought, even from this distance.  The axes turn to sand.  I sense the approach of others – security men.  At the same moment, the message chime rings.  “Your Eminence, the Living God has been attacked,” says Graysal.  “The situation is under control, but I’m sending an armed guard to protect you.”

“Hang on,” Tara says curtly.  She’s more concerned with me.  She helps me back onto the edge of the bed.  “What happened?”

“Attack.  Very low-tech.  Brutal.  Ashvattha is already repairing itself.”  For the first time, I realize the potential of the wellspring of nul-energy at the core of this world.  It would’ve taken Atlas much longer to recover.  “I don’t understand how they could’ve breeched the security perimeter.”

She turns back to the comm unit.  “Graysal, I need information.”

“We’re not sure of the details.  Six attackers with axes.  Volparnians.”

“What?  But why?”

“Perhaps some lingering hatred of the Matriarchy?  I’m afraid we’re not going to find out, though, at least not directly.  They’re all dead.”

“Poison,” I murmur.

“Suicide,” says Tara.  “That’s typical of the Heroes of Volparnu.”

“We’ve got a preliminary identification.  It doesn’t make sense.  None of these men had any connection to known malcontents.  They all have families.  They don’t fit the profile…”

“How did they get through the perimeter?” I ask.

“Eminence?  Who is…?”

“Answer him, Graysal.”

“There’s no way they could.  No way except…”

I smash my hand down on the comm unit.  “We need to see Rivers.  In person.”

Tara understands.  “It was an inside job.  We can’t risk a broadcast, even on an encoded frequency.”

“I don’t want to wait for the honor guard,” I say, snatching up my datapad.  “I don’t know who we can trust anymore…”  But I don’t make it to the door.

It’s time, says Ashtara.  Remember.

Onward –>

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