What if you're wrong?

The prominent atheist Richard Dawkins was asked at some point in the past, "What if you are wrong?"  His answer, of course, was brilliant, but I have an answer of my own.

"What if you're wrong?" asks the student.

"What if I'm wrong?"  I reply, "What if you're wrong?  What if all this time, you have been living a life riddled with guilt regarding the natural lusts and desires of your body for no good reason?  Hating yourself without reason or rationale?  What if all this time you have been placing your sense of natural awe and wonder of the world and the universe into a man-made vessel, causing your curiosity to short circuit and placating you with simplistic explanations to truly fascinating and complex possible discoveries?

"What if they are wrong and their children die needlessly, and cruelly because they thought some figment of their imagination was telling them that a life saving blood transfusion is a sin?

"What if she is wrong and she stays with her abusive husband because she thinks a fabricated sky father would rather see her beaten to a pulp daily than face the prospect that she might find happiness in another?

"What if those parents are wrong, and they send their child into a spiral of doubt, confusion and self-loathing because they find out the child is gay?

"What if you are wrong and all this time your faith is merely a byproduct of your family, your ancestors some time back being subjugated and forced or duped to convert?  What if your made up deity is nothing more than the continued shameful exploitation of you and yours by the descendants of those who abused your ancestors in the past?

"What if you're wrong and all this time you have been praying to a god who isn't there, when you could have been communicating with those who care about you, and getting the love and support you really needed.

"What if you are wrong and all this time you have been living in a bubble of man's fabrication, unable to see the world for what it truly is, painting the rich color palate of reality with a set of 8 crayons?

"What if you are wrong, and you have put your heart and energy into something that does not exist?  What if you are wrong and you took this one life we have, the only thing we are sure of, and squandered it away by suffocating yourself in fantasy?

"What if you are wrong and your faith in an afterlife was nothing more than a tragically unmet need that you haven't been able to make peace with the facts of life and death?  What if your delusion has prevented you from ever being able to truly cope with the fact that you will never see your loved one again?

"What if you are wrong and all this time you were waiting for god to deliver happiness to you for your piety, you never stopped to realize that you hold that power within yourself?

"If you wish to discuss the potential consequences of a lack of faith, you must first examine the potential consequences of faith."



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=beYYZRN1sEs

Chapter 11 - Part VII

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was near twilight when Vaughn first heard the snaps and creaks of delicate twigs lying on the forest floor, but he was far too gone in a trance to offer the noise any attention.  Keubroc, when he reached the clearing Lord Vaughn had set up for their camp, said not a word as mild breezes made their way through the openings and joints of his light armor.  The subtle chill of late warm tide was just barely eking its way through the woods in the darkness.

Vaughn hummed quietly.  He had since removed his plate armor and underlying tunic leaving his hairy chest bare while he sat on his knees in a near trance.  Before him lay two twigs and some earth collected in a pile.  Focused in on these objects, he then removed a vial of a silvery purple, noxious liquid which he poured over the dirt.  With his bare finders, he kneaded the liquid into the dirt, forming a pasty dough of mud.  Only the slightest twitches from his furrowed brows indicated to Keubroc that the man was starting to feel uncomfortable.  Sweat began to bead at his bare forehead and his breathing became labored and heavy.

Vaughn's substantial hands then took a clump of the mud and pressed it into his sternum.  Keubroc looked in closely as he smeared it up to his collarbone, then his neck underneath his grizzled beard.  By now, his hum had turned into a desperate sounding groan and Keubroc took a subconscious step back when the man crumpled to the ground.

"My lord!" he cautiously made his way over the stones and moss to the prone man but when he saw his naked chest rising and falling he relaxed in urgency.  He fell to his knees and tried to rouse the Yibouhese lord, shaking the man's shoulders.  In a few moments, Vaughn's eye's flew open.

Coughing loudly, he muttered, "This is work better suited to a bei.  Damn them for not giving me another one."

"Lord Vaughn?" Keubroc asked.

Vaughn grunted in approval.  The City Enforcer was curious, but never lost his spirit as a soldier as to question him outright.

"Help me up." and Keubroc complied, pulling the now sweaty middle aged man to his feet.  The bei'thal blinked once and Keubroc was certain that he saw a glint of purple flash through the man's eyes.  "The tracks are hers, of that we can be sure."

"My lord?"

"You cannot see it, but I have augmented the soil to reveal who has touched it, and if that person is our prey.  I have done this by weakening the properties of the soil, forging it against the fire of my will, to melt it and shape it to my desires.  And through this, it tells me that it it was her body that passed through the woods.  There is no other sending us to alternate ends while she makes her escape.

"This is the art of the bei."

"The compromised?"

"Exactly.  Because no change anyone can impact comes without a cost.  For every action, for every product, the raw material that goes into it must be forever altered.

"Consider the iron ore that once was used to forge your sword.  It served a purpose at one point.  Perhaps not purposes of our design, but it was perfect for holding up a mountain, or marking a trail.  And though now you have gotten a new use for this iron ore, it isn't suitable for its previous tasks.  Can you slice a man with a lump of rock?  Can a sword make up the foundations of a building."

"No sir." Keubroc admitted.

"And so we lose something when we enact the compromise.  This soil will never again host tree or brush in our lifetimes.  It may even poison a field.

"Draining too, this is." he sighed in exhaustion,  "I do not think I can repeat it again for days.  A measure of purple oshieph was my stove; without it my will would do little more than warm the air around me.  But the fires of the bei'thal are never meant to burn too hotly.  We exist to reign in these raw powers.  Now, a bei would have an easier time of it, as they have already been forged to hone their focus.  The bei'thal direct them how to use it."

"A keeper of the compromised, and the compromised.  Then there are those who have been reforged, changed from one thing to another?"

"Yes.  People are the iron ore that make up the bei.  They become bei.  And for their sacrifice, they learn how to shape other people and objects to meet the needs of the Empire."

Keubroc stood impassively with this new information, questions being satisfied yet not completely.  If a person is forged into bei, do they still remain a person?  But this was not the time to ask.  "Then I suppose there is a reason why I am learning all of this?"

"Indeed Nüdwuob Keubroc.  We have been watching your progress at the Augur over the past few minor moons.  Your skills in battle and in tracking.  The way you handled the interviews with the nobles after the explosion at the Archne Estate.  You've clearly outshined even your superiors, particularly Wuob Corheab.  His incompetence likely tipped off the former Lady Archne, giving her some sense that the Augur, and maybe even the Empire was casting new scrutiny to their actions.  We might have avoided this whole mess if that man hadn't the brains of a frightened rein."

Keubroc nodded silently, his face cast in stone.

"But you can do something Keubroc.  You have the skills we need to keep peace in the land while advancing ourselves as a civilization.  We would like to train you in the art of the bei, help you learn how to manipulate and control the power that the hordes of the Keepers leak into our world."

"To leave the Augur then?" answered Keubroc curtly, as was his fashion.

"For the time being.  For training.  To have a permanent bei'thal stationed at the Augur would be immeasurably useful.  A permanent bei too; we get in trouble when we cart bei around the world.  And I think I have in my mind the perfect candidate for you.  Hopefully she is being trained as a bei even as we speak." Vaughn mused, half to the nüdwuob, half to himself.  "If you love your country, if you honor your Empress, if you want to see peace throughout the land, you will consider this offer strongly.  As I have said, the bei'thal can accomplish what swords and shields often cannot."

"You offer me much. Yet I would not be doing proper respect to the position if I did not consider my options carefully before making an answer." replied Keubroc, rubbing the black stubble of his face while trying to stifle a yawn.  The stars had already made their appearance a few hours prior.

"It is careful planning and mature forethought that we treasure among the bei'thal.  Please, sleep on it.  We can discuss this more tomorrow night.  I will need and answer before our mission is through of course, but please use me as a resource to help you make your decision.

"I will see you in the morning," Vaughn pulled aside the top layer of his bedroll, "I suspect we are near our quarry."

"Thank you Lord Vaughn," Keubroc caught himself, "Vaughn bei'thal.  You have given me much to think on."

Chapter 11 - Part VI

A thin column of sunlight peered directly through the gaps between translucent green leaves of maples and oaks.  It bounced directly off of the shiny plate of silvery steel that adorned the man Keubroc as he knelt in the warm hummus of the forest floor.

"Clearly, we do not track a lynx." his tall companion noted, looking around at broken branches and trampled brush.

"No, clearly not.  She was an Eirdred native, perhaps she'd never even seen outside the walls of the Red City before the last Minor Moon." he dipped his hand into the soil, feeling for the moisture that would have pooled in the foot print from the prior week's thunder storm.  "She went this way perhaps three or for days ago.  No longer than that.  I am sure."

"If that is so, I'm surprised she yet lives.  These forests may be tamed, but they are still forests."

"Yes, that is curious, Lord Vaughn." Agreed the man as he stood to face the Empire man.

"I'd appreciate your insight SecondSword." the bei'thal continued,  "We have zigzagged from a beeline heading due west to abrupt 120 degree angle turns to the north east, and then back again.  We've nearly avoided every village, until we made a 180 degree turn to the east right to the heart Vokdren, and since then we've gone through every village in a northwest line."

"Where exactly does this woman think she is headed?"

"Is that the correct question?"

Keubroc paused in thought.  "I see your point." he considered, "Perhaps we are giving her too little credit."

"Perhaps.  Tell me, what do you know of the alliances of former Lady Archne?  What had Augur scouts learned of over the years?"

Keubroc scrunched dull tan lips on his smoothly shaved bronze face for a second in contemplation, "She is a bit of an unknown.  From what we've gathered, she used to run some type of upscale consort service in Nogrem District for several years and that is probably how she first met the late Lord Archne.  We don't know much of her associations before that point."

"It's too bad you do not have one of us working from within the Augur." Vaughn mindlessly stroked his dark goatee struck with occasions of grey.

Keubroc pondered, "One of you?" He smiled.  "Surely Lords and Ladies of the University have better things to do than bide their time within the Augur."

"Surely they do."

"But you seem to enjoy our company enough.  So perhaps your Lordship is a bit of a misnomer.  Yet I can attest no knowledge of your calling."

"Nor would you.  We are a little secretive.  But we have ways of finding things out and using that information to prevent catastrophes such as these."

"That is an interesting concept."

"Perhaps you would be interested in learning more?"

"We have enough to do simply keeping her Wisdom's peace in the city."  With a smile, he squinted, his sandy brown eyes liquefying against the rays of the sun.  When Vaughn did not respond, he returned to the topic at hand, "It's possible that she is being helped, that there are others making tracks for her benefit.  She did not have many friends inside the city.

"Nogrem has at best an ambivalent opinion of her.  It may be her home district, but nobody of any importance knew her as anything more than entertainment.  The Tsituls have historically loathed House Archne second only to House Nogrem.  She may have had friends among the Trik. Records indicate that Horleih Trik visited the Archne estate not a minor moon ago to renegotiate bee keeping agreements on Trik farms.  Subsequent interviews indicate the old man appeared horrified and shocked at her explosive exit.  But perhaps outside the city?"

"The rural lords."

"Yes, I don't know the extent of her interactions with them.  She traveled rarely." Keubroc admitted, shaking his head.

"What ties might have the late Lord Archne had with the rural lords?" Vaughn probed further.

"Ah, that's right.  The Lot House I believe has its origin with the Archne House.  It is perhaps a 300 year old connection, but I suppose that is a connection.  Parent houses usually make a trip every other tide or so to reconnect with their daughter houses.  I don't know how well the Archne House kept up on this tradition."

"So we might be dealing with Reinfeld.  That's over a minor moon and a half away by foot.  Keubroc, head back to Vokdren to deliver a letter.  I will have Gregor head to Reinfeld to investigate Thenae Lot and his household to assess that connection.  In the meantime, I will set up camp here.  I have an idea on how to determine if these tracks are hers or if they are made to throw us off."

"As you will Lord Vaughn.  I shall return shortly." Raising his ungloved hand to his head, he touched his forehead lightly and gave the bei'thal a short nod in deference.

Journey to the Planet Earth - Europa

A trillion souls scrunched up on a blue-green dot in the sky do nothing to fill the vacuous loneliness that interstellar space offers.  The fact is though, with sincere intent, every now and again, those souls do attempt to populate the void through an exodus of cosmic osmosis.  Those who estrange friends and family for the lure of beyond make the first journey into coldness, into the wilderness of absolute stillness, are a special breed.  They leave without turning back, not out of a psychopathic lust to ignore human interdependence, but because even a molecule of regret will metastasize into a lethal cancer of the heart, dooming the very reason they have forsaken the familiar.  Those who first step outside their door, not knowing what they will find, or if they will even live to see the next second pass, are latent with flaws all their own, yet they deserve a very special chapter, perhaps written entirely in bold, in the book of the genus: homo.

But in the vastness of space, though the stars are still running away from each other even as they are birthed and die, human constellations are not so easily predictable.  The brazen spirit of exploration and revelation easily gives way to the constricting heart of homesickness, tribalized loyalties and passive interdependency.

*

The year is 2154.  The place is the colony of Khune and its small network of scientific research stations.   Over 3,000 minds make up this solitary lunar village on the Jovian moon, Europa, but for nearly half of the population, this is the only home they have ever known.  Even more are star children, having never seen the birthplace of humanity, but having been born on Mars or Luna before humans made the jump beyond the asteroid belt.  Only a select few can say their two feet once walked upon that tiny blue dot in the sky, and their voices are more than half a century old.

Perched lazily upon a bench drilled into the grey walls of the small radio room, Medhi Zheng, son of two star children, native of Khune, shifts himself slightly as he gets back to his summer reading in spite of the distraction of the ceiling.  The pink plastic upholstered bench is uncomfortable, but this is his favorite room in the entirety of the outpost Athena IV.

Like Khune proper, the vast majority of station Athena IV was under a thick sheet of ice kilometers deep but this room, small tiny hallway of a room is the closest thing to the surface before a suit or a shuttle is required.  Located next to the above-surface satellite and sun-shy solar panels, the radio room holds the communications equipment throughout Athena IV and served as the entryway to the partially below-ice garage.

A thick bubble dome made of a palladium glass compound offers the only tidally locked view of Jupiter from the near-side of the moon on the entirety of Europa.  For Medhi, though the room is small, and the two of the three exits are heavily padlocked and sealed, this room offered his only chance to be liberated from the well internalized and suppressed claustrophobia one might experience from living deep in a global sea perpetually locked in a thick case of ice.

"Medhi, azizam, tell your father the shuttle is ready to go.  Near-side lunar sunrise in an estimated 1.2 ESH.  We have to leave by then or we'll never make it to the colony before the far-side sunset." Dr. Neda Amiri gently places a thin, leather hand upon her son and smiles slightly when he looks up at her and nods.  She has been in the lab for the past several hours and strands of dark, silky hair carelessly meanders from underneath her loosely tied hijab of lilac purple.  She hadn't see the sun's rays illuminate the melding gases of reds, yellows and whites on the crest of Jupiter's horizon once during their two months stay at the outpost.  But come to think of it, she hasn't seen much of her son either.

"Yeah, I know.  I will." Medhi replies but by then Neda had already left the room and returned to the lab.  She knew he'd be a good boy and do as he was told.  No further persuasion was needed.

He puts down the tablet and it automatically shuts down, blinking the words of Gilgamesh out of existence for the time being.  Summer reading.  It was a funny term carried over from Earth.  Once, the term 'summer' meant a period of time where the climate warmed up over a geographic location.  Once, there were other terms for other times of year; Winter, Spring, Autumn, but those words could only be seen in science textbooks and novels written on Earth.

Now, a summer means only a break of school, and these two months were the last summer Medhi could expect to enjoy in his lifetime.  Childhood was in a quick sunset and Medhi was running out of time trying to determine what scientific field he would base his career on.  Would he study geology and planet science and explore deeper the internal sea of Europa?  Perhaps Engineering was his call, where he could begin working on another colony compound or a new wing on Khune.  Or perhaps the agridome needed more scientists expanding what was culinary possible on this nutrient poor ball of ice.

All options had one thing in common: Europa.  Sure, sometimes Jupiter fell into the mix of study; Dr. Amiri spent her life, after all, researching the electromagnetic discharge radiating from the gas giant.  It was her work that birthed the technical ability to capture energy from the planet rather than the sun in the darkness of the near-side of the moon.  It was how this base could function even though the sun was so very far away, and even though most of the time the gas giant named for the king of the gods cast his shadow on Athena IV.  He was sure his mother would be overjoyed if he followed in her footsteps.  What new discoveries would she expect out of her son?  But for Medhi, just like the ice that trapped and encased every colonial building, Europa, even the mere thought of the frozen moon, made him feel claustrophobic.

I need to get out of here.  It is not so much a thought of Medhi's that continues t pop up every now and again, as background radiation in the space of his existence.

"Athena IV, Athena IV, this is the Wukong II.  Preparing to return the buggy to base in 10 minutes.  Please respond.  Over."  The radio beeps and Medhi rushes over to the console.

"This is Athena IV, responding to the Wukong II.  Shuttle doors are open and we are preparing for your arrival." he started formally. "Baba, Maman says tells me we need to hurry.  I think she's worried about having enough solar energy to make it back.  Over."

"This is Wukong II.  Copy that Athena IV.  I am on my way.  I got some amazing shots over here.  Finally captured the shot of the ambient gas glow on a pre-dawn Jupiter.  Amazing colors." buzzed the reply over the radio.

"Baba, did you get any of the blue dot?  Over."

"I did Medhi.  Waxing crescent.  It seemed so close, almost like it was a child of Jupiter's rings.  It is amazing to think about it."

"To think about what dad? Over."

"That somehow that little blue dot started it all.  Ever try to imagine it?  Nine billion of us somehow squeezed onto that little ball.  Compared to the 3,000 of us on Europa, or the thirty thousand or so between Mars and Luna, it seems unfathomable.  When Nai Nai was still alive she used to tell us stories about life there.  You ever wonder how things would have been if she had stayed there?"

"Sometimes.  But you could have stayed on Mars too." Medhi retorts, the hint of accusation he intended is buried too deeply in his matter-of-fact manner that his father doesn't notice it.  Finally he adds,  "Over."

"I could have, but not Maman." his father says softly, "We all make our choices Medhi."

A long silence passes between the father and son before a final buzz from the Wukong II beeps from the radio.

"Athena IV, this is the Wukong II.  I have arrived at destination.  Please prepare the shuttle doors.  Over."

"Stand by Wukong II.  Shuttle doors opening.  Over."

The above ground garage is small; hardly complex.  Medhi had mastered basic operations for the vehicle warehouse early on in his teens and the procedure is solidly and rotely in his brain.  He can do this in his sleep.  His fingers are light on the console and he can feel a shudder as the bay doors slide against the rock hard ice separating firmament from humanity.

The garage opening let in an eerie glow of dark purple, red and yellow coming from the Jupiter enveloped sky above, and Medhi

His father, 蒸文峰, Wenfeng,

"Fuck man." Xinbo sighed.  "I don't even know what I am going to do with myself." He grabs "dong" off of the neat line of majhong tiles.  And he smiles when he turns over his tray revealing the rest of his hand.  The tiles clink slightly as he adds "dong" to the line up.  /The Big Four Winds/  Medhi sighs, but Allen and Mohammed laugh.

"Damn it man,  I didn't think you were that close." Allen swears "Clever bugger."

"What does that even mean?" Medhi asks his friend, wanting to be mad at something.

"I don't know."  Allen offers uselessly.  "It's just something mum and dad say all the time in English.  And that's about the extent of my English, Mum, Dad and Clever Bugger."

"Fucking Americans." Xinbo says and Medhi and Mohammed nod but Allen just shrugs.

"Well any way, nice one Xin!" Mohammed refocuses the conversation and slaps Xinbo on the shoulder and Allen starts cleaning up the tiles.

"I suck at this game." Medhi says, defeatist.

"Yeah, well I don't think Europa is in dire need of a Mahjong expert any time soon." Xinbo echos Medhi's frustration, in spite of his win.

"Why don't you just man up, go to your dad and start an apprenticeship?" Allen asks.

"Are you a marine biologist now?  Don't tell me you caved in.  Loser. Do we really need another Dr. Holme?"

"Eh, fuck you Mohammed." Allen says, dismissing his friend's jab, "Not everyone gets selected for Governance Service straight out of high school.  You've still got a friggen half decade to think about it, and, by that time, you'll probably have set yourself up with some cushy job in infrastructure.  I needed to do something, find some way to get work hours filled, so yeah, I'm going to start apprenticing at the end of school.  Whatever.  At least biology work hours are time and a half." 

"Yeah, it's people like you that piss me off, Allen." growls Xinbo.  "You have something.  You have a way to not starve."

"Nobody starves on Khune.  That's just some self-pitying fear mongering." Allen retorts, "You still get subsistence rations if you don't fill your work hours."

"Do you even know what it is like to live on subsistence rations because even though you are a student, your dead beat mother who can't fill her hours, fills her plate with what you earned with your school hours."

Medhi knows where this conversation is headed to.  It's not the first time Xinbo and Allen have gotten into this fight, but as the day towards their graduation draws nearer, they get more heated and raw.  Everyone knows the answers to these questions.  Xinbo hasn't seen his father in 7 years and as far as Medhi knows, the split was not friendly.  He might as well apply for an apprenticeship with the agridome.  Even with his miserable grades from high school, it still would be more likely.  

And everyone in this room knows that though Allen might harp about his old man, he might have been swearing since middle school that he'd never go into marine biology, but Allen is all talk.  Time and a half is just too tempting to pass up.  It means downtime for half of the Earth Standard Year in exchange for half an ESH of intensive work.  Half an ESH to explore life beyond survival in Khune; the opportunity to make music, to paint, to dream, to go where the imagination drives you.

"(Xinbo) Xin and Lily (Shin) didn't make it." Medhi finally manages between breaths. Somehow, now that the words have been spoken, now that the sound of his voice has reached the ears of others, the finality of the fact crashes into him.  Now it's real.  It is as if his lips, not the pressure-less, oxygen-devoid emptiness of space, ended their lives.  His heart is racing and it isn't from the exertion of the climb.

"

----

“The reason why we go forward,” she says, “Is that we can’t go back.  If we try to return to the space we occupied this morning, we’d be on the other side of the world.  Life keeps moving, plants keep growing, moons keep spinning and every second that goes by the sun is that much closer to its irreversible end.  We can talk about the old ways.  We can look at our hometowns and try to recreate that little slice of life we remember, but we’re only finding new ways to act out old walks, we’re only creating new lives inside of familiar walls.”

“Then what is this point of you being here?  If that's what you believe, you are going in the wrong direction.” Medhi condescends, cutting her off only after her last word left her lips.

“Because we aren’t returning to the land of our grandparents.  We are exploring the lands of our children.”

Medhi finds himself not looking forward to the vast amount of alone time he was likely going to have with Sanaa.

----

"Gravitational stabilizers are back online.  You should be able to demagnetize your boots now." He announces to the group.  He is trying to suppress his pride.  He's trying so hard to not let this small victory inflate his head to balloon sized proportions.  It isn't a sense of modesty that guides him.  He is still swimming in a surreal state.  Clinically, he knows their troubles are far from over.  But he also knows that he isn't feeling the true sense of danger surrounding himself and the passengers.  He can't afford to feel proud that he got them moving again because complacency is death.  And there is still a long way to go until Mars.

"Thanks (Persian).  We owe you big time.  When we get to Mars, your first round is on me."

"Right back at you Medhi."

----

Medhi says finally.  "Earth is where it all started.  Every piece of land there has already been explored.  A-Level uses the same textbook.  I've seen it.  You can't possibly think... "

"What is land?" she asks, interrupting him without mercy.

"Are you being serious?  That's a stupid question.  You know what land is."

"If it is so stupid you should be able to answer.  What is land?"

"It's the ground.  Only it's made of dirt instead of ice or the floor."

"Is that all?  So the pots and raised beds in the Agridome are land?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it.  You are really annoying, you know that?."

Sanaa continues, "What does land feel like?  What does it smell like?  How do you know it is land?"

"Do you honestly think we'll get to Earth and I won't be able to figure out where the oceans end?  Don't worry about it!  I promise you, when I arrive, I will know what the land is."

"Exactly." she says, lowering her tone.

Now Medhi is confused.  "What?"

"When you get there, you will know what land is.  You don't know what land is now.  Sure, you know about land.  You have read the tales of Earth, the description of it.  You might even know some of the things that make up land.  But Medhi, you don't know land, and neither do I.  I'm an explorer Medhi, and so are you.  We are exploring things that are unknown to us, and making them known.  There is nothing more exotic and exciting than that!  

Chapter 11 - Part V

"I am going too."

"No.  After you proved to me you have all the political grace of a wéhkàx, you will be involved in no more sensitive affairs with me."

"She was killing him for no reason!  You heard Caudra.  He knew nothing more than the shadow Cedric knew of the killing of Lord Archne.  That man spent a lifetime following orders, a lifetime to making sure the Archne household ran smoothly, that their privileged were fed well and given lives of comfort.  How was he rewarded?"

"What part of 'be cautious with the Eirdred nobles' did you not understand?  What is one life to the lives of nations?  What is one eye for one old man compared to the thousands of eyes of children slaughtered if war comes?" Vaughn practically spit at his former protege before taking a step back and calming himself.

"I have another job for you anyway.  A responsibility to take on your own for the first time, without me watching your every move.  You'll be spending more time with Caudra trying to weed out the traitor in the Augur."

"You cannot go alone."

"Against one woman?  Of course I can.  Don't be naive.  Her power is in deceit, not in physical strength.  But no matter.  I will not be going alone.  I am bringing the SecondSword Keubroc to assist me.  The Wuob recommends him highly and he knows how these Eirdred nobles behave."

"There is another reason."

"Of course there is.  Corheab also mentioned the man might be worthy of more.  He is being considered for bei'thal training by the pnum'bei'thal.  This will be my opportunity to judge that, make the offer, and if rejected, remove the problem without much fuss."

"And the Wuob is satisfied with losing his best officer, either to the Silent Scholar or to your blade?"

"Don't be ridiculous.  Of course he doesn't realize that one way or another, his SecondSword isn't coming back.  If you are looking to prove yourself while I am gone, you can make it your business to see that he is well replaced."  Vaughn added, "Don't hesitate to interview the Wuob as well.  He may be Yibouhese, but that man operates on fear.  Who knows the depths of his loyalty."

"You have no argument from me, Vaughn'rdaup.  The man is an opportunist." Gregor plopped himself down on a seat of velvet cushion while he watched his mentor prepare for his departure.

"Find any excuse to be around him with Caudra.  People rarely advertise their secrets even to themselves in the privacy of their own mind."

"I understand."

"Oh and one more thing Gregor."

"Yes rduap?"

"That man the Archne head of house staff is going to be executed.  It will end the questions with Ketrae Archne and we'll maintain the illusion that the City Enforcers had collected evidence on our behalf.  Let this be.  Do nothing, say nothing about this.  If you must make peace with this, consider that this will end his torment.  Prove to me you can be a fine officer of the Empire.  Do not interfere."

Gregor said nothing has his superior bei'thal exited the room.

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Chapter 11 - Part IV

The sound of work crews humming turned to singing as they climbed up the massive stone foundation of the late Main Hall.  Though work crews remained in small groups, working on distinct tasks, the singing merged word, and in unison they chanted the melody.  Black and gold in ribbons dances about their bare arms as they pushed stones and hammered wood into place.

'Sei pahm chelr rok dorthet mei'                               'Sing me songs of high warm tide'
Huelt pathen juih dorak                                                   My lover said to me
'Dorthet krü'shaih tau tihued, shok!                        'Of plums and wine and apple tarts
du shah du kel jen'shei'                                                To chase away this frost'

'Greml du Trik, Shik, Duredul                                        'No Trik or Shik or Duredul'
Buet jau nechlin puiht                                             Can free me from this bore             
Hul huelt krau'oir dulen reniht                                     For pork and fish and potatoes
du par du pok du gorl                                                    They drain near all my soul.'

kae kae kae!                                                                  (women) Hey hey hey!
roi roi roi!                                                                         (men) Ho ho ho!

Hul pathen, kae lah'l krüpahm'elt muih daz     But honey is an all-tide treat, my dear
Kae lah'l krü'pahm'elt muih daz                                      Honey is an all-tide treat.

roi kae!                                                                           (men) Ho! (women) Hey!
Krü hihn pahm ahihm                              Bees know warmtide gives way to coldtide 
'L archne tsih'erl, archne feeih'ed                        And they gather up their stores

Jurch, lah'l krü'pahm'elt muih daz                                      So honey is an all tide treat!

"Lord Vaughn, Lord Gregor."  a petite woman of creamy coffee hair half pinned and draped well below her back approached the party, taking two of the three men well off guard.  Bei'Caudra stood unaffected, seemingly in a different world.

The lady's soft robes of satin red were embroidered with graceful vines of ivy in the imperial style while ket shoes lifted her up and ensured the lackadaisical fabric never touched the dirt.  And in the construction, there was a lot of dirt.

Vaughn bei'thal recomposed himself and bowed slightly.  "I am Vaughn, servant of her wisdom.  May I assume that we are in company of the Lady of the house?"

"You may."

Gregor similarly straightened himself before offering a bow of respect.  He had not expected to meet the lady outside of her receiving room, even if it was currently comprised of a few sheets of canvas and some wooden poles.

"I was told to expect you, and I am glad that you have not disappointed.  Come, walk with me.  I have not yet seen the extent of the damage."

Anger.  Rage!  Caudra's thoughts floated to the surface of the minds of the bei'thal.  With an exhausted pause, the bei translated the raw emotion flowing from the woman to his masters. But not at you.  Not to Yibouh. 

"Lady Archne..."

"Lord Vaughn, spare me that name for now.  There are more important things at stake."

And the last person to bear that name murdered my brother, destroyed the legacy of our family, and forced me to leave the center of civilization.

Though Vaughn kept a face of stone, Gregor raised an eyebrow to the new Lady Archne - an act that was not unnoticed by the small woman.  "It has been a while since I've been afforded a title.  And my tattoo ceremony won't be taking place until the Main Hall is up.  I feel I am little more than a steward at this point."

"It must be difficult to come back to this," Gregor offered sympathetically, to which Ketrae nodded.

"I was not told of your companion here." she said, finally noticing the hooded man that trailed Gregor and Vaughn.  "Sir, I'd know who paid the Archne a visit.  Your name please."

Caudra lowered his eyes and bowed respectfully but remained silent, as was his capacity.

"Merely a servant from the Augur to assist us in paying our respects in the Receiving Room.  We had not expected to be graced with your presence out here.  I can send him away if you would prefer." Vaughn offered nonchalantly.

"No, that is not needed." she looked back skeptically, but added,  "You will forgive me, it has been some time since I have been involved in the Eirdred court.  We do not have to deal with such formalities with our peers at the University.  Still sir, I'd have your name."

Before she could demand again Gregor spoke up, "He is unable to respond, having been made mute from a childhood riddled with throat pox.  We know him as Caudra, however."

"I see.  Well met." her attention satisfied, she turned to the site before her, another building raized to its stone foundations.  "In the days that followed, many of our vassals, some who had served Archne for generations fled the scene.  Most have since returned.  Of those who had not, I am suspicious.

"Of the head of house staff, I am most certainly suspicious.  But not a night ago he was retrieved from his hometown and now he awaits our company in our cells."

The barracks might have been destroyed, but the whore had been kind enough to leave us our prisons.  That she could see the insides herself.  The thoughts of Ketrae buzzed to Gregor and Vaughn though Caudra's willing mind.

In the bowels of the building, it did not take long to see precisely just how suspicious the new Lady Archne has been of poor Vergaihl.  Chained intimately to a wall, the elder man had only a waterfall of blood where his left eye had been.  On his nearly naked body, cuts and bruises hinting of the flesh's history with a barbed whip adorned each limb and his chest.

Sympathetic to the man, Gregor could not be silent.  "My lady, whatever this man's crimes, he needs to be appraised by the City Enforcers before punishment is enacted."

"Don't concern yourself with protocol Gregor.  It is more important to get to the truth of the matter and if the Lady Ketrae has done that, the City Enforcers cannot help but to agree with her methods." Vaughn placed his hand on his protege's shoulder.  "There are times when what is written stands in the way of what is right."

"Indeed Lord Vaughn.  And we have learned much." Ketrae said, ignoring Gregor's rashness.

"We are listening."

"We believe my brother's murderer still lives." she spit at the chained man, "Vergaihl admits to that at least."

"Is this true?" Vaughn turned to the tortured man, though he merely lingered in consciousness.  He slapped the man's face.  "Does your Lady live?"

"Death has the faces of the women of Archne." he uttered painfully, "Oh, Keeper Sheg, I am your host, innocent and naive.  I have worshiped the wrong one all my life."

"Yes, he does not hesitate to proclaim his innocence in this project, yet he has no grand answer for why he did not return to the estate, and how he knows that she is alive."

Gregor reached out his arm to clasp Caudra's wrist firmly before letting go.  He approached Vergaihl and placed his hand gently alongside the man's face.

"You called him Vergaihl?" he turned back to the lady and she nodded.  He turned back to his quarry and stared directly into the man's eyes.  "Vergaihl, have you seen the woman Zaexyl Archne, formerly known as Reiba, since you have left the estate?"

"She let me go, she let me go.  And now I am back, but she let me go." he muttered with words as cracked as his lips.

She let me go but I saw her run too.  Run west.  That woman is death to me.  Just wanted to see my family again.  Wanted to forget her.  Forget Archne.  But Archne will never let me forget.  Cedric had been used.  I had been used.  There is no peace for the loyal.  No peace for those who love their houses.  Came the voice from Caudra's abilities.

Gregor blanched.  "Lady Archne, let this man go.  He did you no harm."

Ketrae furrowed her brows, "There must be justice.  Rel demands it, I feel his host upon me.  I will not let the guilty go."

Idiot! Vaughn thought with such anger and intensity that Caudra picked up on it and echoed reproach to Gregor.  "My lady, please do not take my apprentice's words seriously." he barked the word 'apprentice'; a word he had not used for Gregor in many tides.  "He is rash and impudent.  But perhaps it is time to bring the man before the City Enforcers.  Let justice be served to the guilty."

"Very well, but I would be kept informed of any further information you receive and the final verdict."

"Agreed." Vaughn nodded.

"Good.  I believe the City Enforcers have already been here collecting their evidence."  she reached down to her ankle and withdrew a small dagger from a sheath strapped to her leg.  "Please return this to whoever came to investigate prior to my arrival and report their findings to me at the soonest convenience." she passed the dagger on to Vaughn.

Taking it in hand, there was no mistaking it, he was holding a standard issue dagger of the City Enforcers.

Gregor.  Vaughn thought through Bei'Caudra.  We told Corheab that this was work for the bei'thal only, correct?  It was clear no Enforcers were to take part in this investigation?

Yes rduap.

Looking at the small dagger again, he appreciated the utility of such a knife.  It was useless in battle, but great for other purposes, like cutting rope or hewing a bow.  It was carried by most every low level soldier and likely provided hours of entertainment while patrolling the city walls.

It looks like the Augur has a traitor in it's midst.
___________________________________________________________________________

LITERAL TRANSLATION OF SONG
"(command) warm middle came song give'
I(possessive) lover (inward direction/ to me) spoke
'song cold frost/dew (example: krü'shaih  = frost, pahm'shaih = dew) (outward direction) push(future), however/conditional on!
with/including plum, with wine, pastry'apple

'Others(passive) with/including Trik/farm Shik/fishing spot and Duredul/market
stuck in boringness is
I (passive) I (possessive) most'higher spirit is removing
with pork with fish with potato

(Expletives used only by women and feminized men)
(Expletives used only by men and masculinized women)

My lover, (emphasis) honey (passive) all-tide's treat is eaten
(emphasis) honey (passive) all-tide's treat is eaten

Cold (circular forward direction) warm becomes
(that fact) if known by bees, bees will prepare


Therefore, (emphasis) honey (passive) all-tide treat is eaten

Chapter 11 - Part III

The sun was already high in the sky when Gregor and Vaughn departed the Augur and headed for the burned out shell of the broken Archne compound.  A light sliver of the Major Moon, barely out-competing the azure and cloudless sky, hung statically in on the horizon signalling the incumbent return of crisp, cooler days.  In other parts of the city, the light sadness of an impending snowy claustrophobia was still two minor moons away, but for the Archne Estate, there was a great deal of work to be done to ensure none were relegated to a bedroll of ice.

The Receiving Room was closest to the main gate, and being relatively far from the blast, still had three out of four sturdy oak walls standing upon its foundation of granite stones.  Of course within the Receiving Room all of the paper and linen dividers had burned away, and the flax mats were no more.  But it was a start to the several men and women that worked tirelessly in a swarm.  They ignored the three visitors while they labored in clusters, lining the foundation with floorboards and smooth, square pillars while humming tunes of their households.

The day laborers were mostly on loan from the other houses, as each house was pledged, under the Red, to support each other in times of duress.  The level of that commitment varied, with Nogrem and Trik lending the greatest number for their adjacent neighbor, but there were a surprisingly healthy number of Tsitul estate staff scattered about the worksites.

Busy little bees in the hive of the Archne?  Or are they merely vengeful roses here to get their nectar back?  Gregor thought to himself, though he knew the answer.

The Main Hall, with its four residential wings, having been at the source of the blast, had no hope.  Upon the stone foundation that once uplifted the residence wings above any other building in the estate, a solitary yurt had been erected.  Gregor surmised that this was where Lady Ketrae and her husband had stayed.  Her young son remained behind in Pho-Boteth to be properly educated by the empire.  He had stayed on invitation of course.  Had his mother politely declined, she'd then be invited to relinquish her title and spend a few tides, toiling in the fields of some ally of the empire or another. 

The courtyard, once a flat valley surrounded by the peaks of mountainous buildings, now sat surrounded by vacant foundations rising like lifeless desert plateaus.  Those foundations had become home to several more yurts, likely erected to perform the functions of the now missing buildings. But while those yurts were fashioned of a thick canvas cloth of beige and gold trim, the yurt upon the Main Hall proudly announced itself with the colors of the bee -- Archne stripes of black and gold.

The men walked in single file; two with their shiny breast plates, and a third man, hooded and dark, though chocolate jaw-length wavy curls clung to the sweat of his high cheekbones from time to time.  His dark eyes, angular and up-turned darted side to side and up and down incessantly as he followed each step made by the two bei'thal.  His body was well wrapped in a simple linen tunic and high necked leather vest, while his knee high boots of tan were tired and fraying.  He looked like a courier to most, or perhaps a down on his luck merchant.

"Caudra, look beyond the woman.  See if you can't latch onto the thoughts of her household staff as we speak.  Perhaps they are hiding something of hers and are not quite as skilled at repressing those thoughts." Gregor nudged, wishing that he could communicate directly to the bei's mind.  Alas, bei'thal were never trained to speak to any besides the Silent Scholar using merely their thoughts.  Their connection had been to only one, and only with the Silent Scholar's help could that power be amplified.  Likely, to reach beyond, to connect to other minds and creatures required compromising, and Gregor had no taste to become bei.  While the pnum'bei had the ability to tap into the sound waves of the unseen, the cost was extraordinary.  

Physically, the man nodded, but as Gregor's mind floated in the space between the two of them, he could hear a wheezing acknowledgement.  Yes bei'thal.  The bei pushed the words onto Gregor's consciousness.  Compromised of spirit, Caudra had not so much lost the physical use of his vocal cords so much as he had lost the understanding on how to articulate with them.  Even his mind ran closer to the rudimentary; lacking the ability to ponder the intangible or appreciate music.  But he was very good at getting all the details of thoughts, emotions and deviance, which made him ideal for this mission.