Graid walked through a sea of thoughts on his way to the central conference room of Rellcine. The young and old, the strong and weak, guards, scientists, maintenance technicians bowed and moved out of his way as he strode down the hallways. Graid could distance himself from those thoughts, but his mind was so powerful, they floated into his consciousness like water or air.
And they are so sinfully dull.
Concerns about proper positions during worship, worries about a child, musings on aspects discovered during a personal Castiliad, those were the things his brethren in Rellcine thought of, those were the things Graid could not help but nest. Often Graid wanted to strike out at one of them, grope an attractive young girl, just to spark a reaction. Novans held so much more interest to him; their minds were dark and dirty, full of pleasure and sin. Graid could spend his every waking moment on Novan, among all their different kinds of people, a carnival for him to explore and enjoy. He pitied those around him now, confined to regimen and tradition, bound by a faith stifling and constrictive.
Turning a corner, he walked at full speed, forcing those in front to dodge out of his way. He appeared much taller to those who saw him like this, striding purposefully down a hallway, as opposed to facing him face to face. He had a stride that also belonged to a taller man. Even if he were not born the Kal-Alçon, not born with great mental and physical power, people would defer to him, bow to him, simply because of his bearing. His eyes were always focused on what lay ahead of him — he was not easily distracted from his purpose. His shoulders square, his back rigid and tense, he stood with a soldier’s posture; legs slightly apart, his hands clenched behind him, his jaw parallel to the ground.
He couldn’t count the number of times he walked down these halls, to one conference or another. As he was growing up, he remembered they didn’t want him included in these conferences, though he had the title of ‘Kal-Alçon’ from birth. At the age of ten they finally capitulated to his demands, submitting once and for all to his wishes. From that moment on, he was treated as a Kal, the ultimate authority, whose word was accepted without question. He felt being in that conference room, being included in on those decisions, would make him feel more at one with his people, give him the connections he so desperately wanted at that age. Instead, he found bickering and stagnation. Uonil had just taken on the role of Mentra, just began to assume leadership over the council of Alçons. But she was weak, and Martel had not been assigned to her side. He watched her struggle in that room, trying to gain control of men and women far older and more experienced than her, who had no pity or compassion for her. The Alçons never respected Uonil, only following her because she was appointed by the Kal-Durrell. It was then he lost respect for her and all committees, all bodies of governance. She only gained strength with Martel at her side, never finding it when alone. He longed for the roa when he would be old enough to rule alone.
Now Uonil is without Martel again, and Arciss is a poor substitute.
Graid had been thinking on Arciss over the past few roas, and how he would deal with him.
Why did the Kal-Durrell appoint him as my Steward? He brings no distinctions in battle, no great ability to lead. He is a researcher, a person who runs errands for those actually endowed with greatness. At least Martel, stupid as he was to get himself killed, brought a maturity and a high level of experience. He could even teach me some things, when I was younger.
He thought back to the many training sessions that were actually productive, all with Martel. He had an excellent balance of mental and physical warfare, a strategist that often thought far ahead of his opponent. Graid would execute what he thought was a finishing move, only to have Martel triumph in the end with what seemed to be a lucky trick.
But there was no luck about what Martel did. He was a man almost worthy to be called my Steward. I could think of ten others that could follow in his steps, ten others of great mental strength, intelligence, adroitness at strategy. Part of me wants to rip this Arciss up into shreds, and throw them in the faces of the Kal-Durrell for daring to insult me with his presence. He sighed, and then thought with sarcasm; but we all must serve the Kal-Durrell.
Often Graid thought on what would happen if he challenged the Kal-Durrell, tried once and for all to rid them from the face of Rell. But he only thought those thoughts deep down, in his most private moments.
He entered the conference room, glaring at Uonil and her twenty advisors. Her advisors were a source of amusement for Graid, as she was continually replacing them. Even now, he saw five new faces, different from just two roas ago. She was merciless on them, expecting lightning fast responses, quick solutions to problems posed. Graid always felt it was her attempt at exercising control. He stood for a moment, as Uonil and her advisors bowed their heads in deference to his presence. Some of the advisors were visibly shaken, never having become accustomed to the Kal-Alçon’s presence. They watched him with fear and awe, thankful to be alive during his reign. As Graid seated himself at the head of the table he scanned them all, reading their thoughts, sensing their emotions, gaining leverage over them all.
“So, there has been something expected?”
Arciss entered as he was speaking, hunched over, carrying a datapad. He scurried to a place beside Graid, glancing slightly around the room, alighting on the disapproving face of Uonil. It had been a long past couple of roas for him, full of sleepless nights in abject terror of Graid. Many times did he pray to the Kal-Durrell for strength, thinking over the words Valcha said to him, wondering if he would be able to find a place between Uonil and Graid. He also practiced concealing his thoughts, as he never wanted a repeat of Graid’s lesson. He now downloaded and linked with Uonil’s advisors, trying to regain his calm, fearful for Graid’s response to his lateness. An advisor spoke while he was organizing himself.
“Yes Kal-Alçon. AG Platform Five decayed in orbit and crashed on the surface, very near to Kolob’s location, as before. Our concealed micro-detonators brought it down on schedule. All agents were pulled out of the area successfully, with the Novan loss of life at approximately three million, as before. Our orbiting sensors confirmed Kolob is alive, but sealed within the rubble.”
“We knew he would be alive, but is anyone with him?” asked Graid curtly.
“Rhonva.”
“Damn him.” Graid sighed, and sat back. “Makes me think Martel was right, that the TELREC, or someone else, has figured something out. Possibly Mal has sensed some sort of temporal anomaly, a sign of our incursions.”
“How could they?” ventured Arciss, stroking his hair. Arciss was always vain of his hair — its long, blond locks always turned the eyes of other men, and it gave him confidence in moments such as these. “There is no way they could remember facts from one temporal event to another.”
Graid turned to face him while assimilating the many downloads being sent regarding Kolob and Rhonva’s status.
“Keep silent, Arciss, and learn. There are many ways they could deduce we have tampered in their timeline. We still don’t know the full extent of that damned computer, Mal. I would give anything to have an operative inside Malhrer. That is the one thing they have managed to keep secret from us all these cas, to our disgrace. We have been back in time four times. There is no way to fully understand all the repercussions that may occur. Are we weakening the brane for this universe? Have we distorted the fabric of void-time in some way? Could we be, unknown to us, merging our dimension with another, possibly switching our Rhonva for another’s? I have read the data and research our scientists did those many cas ago. Some of them foresaw problems just such as these. And if that is the case, if some events have permanently changed as a result of our temporal journeys, we are going to have a very tough time indeed with this mission.”
Uonil looked long at Graid, understanding his source of concern. It was one they all tried to avoid, as there was no option to going back in time.
Arciss tentatively spoke. “What do you think we should do?”
Gra
id turned slowly, his disgust becoming evident. Arciss cursed at himself.
“That is what this meeting is for,” said Graid condescendingly, stressing every syllable. “We get together, and each of us comes up with options to review. Input from everyone is essential. Without it, I’d kill you all, and decide everything myself. I know I’d be happier, but something tells me you wouldn’t.”
Uonil reached over towards Graid. “Graid, let’s focus — this is counterproductive.”
“Fine,” said Graid abruptly. “I think we need to accelerate our plans concerning Kolob, lest we lose him to the TELREC. They must be thinking that this accident makes his safety and confinement all the more important. Rhonva has probably already received a download from whoever his masters are, and will be taking action once they exit the rubble. Our only advantage is that Rhonva is hurt; apparently his leg is broken, and he has become somewhat dependant on Kolob. He will make no overt moves concerning Kolob until he is healed.”
“Why would they have wanted to confine him in the first place, at Illint plaza?” asked Arciss.
“I don’t know. Uonil?”
“Neither do I. I have been thinking over that incident, and I think there is more than what we are seeing. The TELREC may have just wanted to examine him, get a status of his physical and mental condition. If Rhonva is not a TELREC, they may have wanted to get Kolob away from him, and execute Rhonva. The possibilities are endless, the spheres of mental influence on the parties involved to numerous to name.”
“Have your advisors do the necessary calculations,” cast Graid, “and have three prime possibilities in one roa.”
“Understood.”
“Now what concerns me about Rhonva,” continued Graid, “is that if he truly were a TELREC agent, he would have possessed foreknowledge of the AG collapse, and would not have been caught beneath it. We need to discern who his superiors are, and what his mission is with Kolob.”
“He should be of no problem,” said Uonil dismissively, with a smile on her face, “for he has never been of consequence in the other timelines. And besides, even the TELREC can miss something occasionally.”
“Don’t underestimate him now,” rebuked Graid, leaning forward. “Examine the records we now have of him. His physical condition speaks of extensive training; mental scans of him show him to be quite powerful and focused. We have reports that several cas ago he managed to penetrate deep into the Iganinagi, a place where acceptance is rare and loyalty fleeting. He changes shape and ability far faster than most other agents we have dealt with.”
“Since his closeness to Kolob is different in this timeline,” continued Graid, “and his actions radically different, we must consider him as totally unpredictable. Many of the Alçons choose to regard him as a TELREC agent. That concerns me. None of our operatives have ever definitively connected him. Even Martel was apprehensive about that deduction.”
Uonil shrugged, squinting her eyes. “Who else could he work for? No underworld group has any methods for that training, and the ability to get lleldin is too strictly controlled for a rogue agency to acquire so much, so successfully and so repeatedly. The Iganinagi are a sophisticated entity, but they would not engage in this passive observance. Their methods are those of bloodshed and terror. That leaves the Leviathan as the only other group capable of supporting an agent of Rhonva’s capacity, and I find that to be highly unlikely.”
Graid shook his head.
“It would fit the available data. The TELREC never have been ones for long term surveillance — Mal is too prescient for that. Rhonva does not seem to be molding Kolob. Rather, he is keeping him in a sort of stasis, not too dependent on illicit drugs, but weak enough to be malleable. It would be the perfect way for the Leviathan to gain some foothold into Kolob’s psyche, some balance to TELREC control.”
Uonil laughed. “The Novans are not that forward thinking! All they are concerned about is sin, and depravity. You give them too much credit.”
Graid sat back, frustrated and irritated.
I am probably the strongest pro-active step we as a people have made to counter the Novan threat, Graid sighed. Too often, we pretend they are ineffectual, immature children, when in fact they have power and strength that must be acknowledged.
“You need to overcome this attitude of underestimating the potential for those people,” said Graid, to Uonil’s displeasure. “Despite outward appearances, not all of them wallow in sensory excess. How many of our wisest leaders have reminded us to be ever diligent, ever cautious of slipping into complacency? Recognize that the Leviathan has somehow kept order to an inherently chaotic system for all these millennia, and balanced that oversight with TELREC dominion. All variables must be considered and never negated unless verifiable facts surface.”
“It sounds almost as if you admire them, Honored One?”
“Do not bait me, Uonil.”
“No, no, I merely state that you often seem to show respect for them,” she replied with some sarcasm. “You defend their actions, warn our agents of their strength, spend large amounts of time among their people, I just —”
Graid stood, looking down on Uonil, with a face of stone, her advisors shrinking back, their heads lowered.
“Never question me or my actions in public,” gruffly spat Graid. “You are not irreplaceable, and I would not hesitate to demonstrate my mental dominance to you, dear one.”
Uonil casually sat back in her chair, keeping her eyes on him. “My apologies, Kal-Alçon. I meant no disrespect.”
“Then listen!” cried Graid, becoming exasperated. “I know the Novan people better than anyone on Rell, and why? Because they are us, just with different beliefs. Whatever they are capable of, we are capable of, and vice versa.” Graid paused, to see if they were absorbing his words. “We are not born with greater intelligence, merely the ability to focus it more clearly among a greater percentage of our population. While it is true that the continual presence of the cast-net has affected the intellectual development of a growing percentage of their population, most of them still have the same capacity, the same raw mental materials as we possess. If the Novans respected religion as much as we do, things would be much different.”
“That reeks of blasphemy.”
“Why, because it is the truth?” demanded Graid. “You have so much to learn about life, and people. You are the greatest mathematician our world has ever known, your mind a model of perfection. But it deals in the abstract, and the potential. I deal with the living, and the actual. I base decisions on what I know people will do, not the average of statistics, or the corruption of dogma. Free yourself from the limitations imposed on you, and you will see I speak the truth.”
“Then, what does this . . . intuition, tell you about Rhonva?” asked Uonil.
“That he, or his actions, will significantly mold Kolob in a different way than he has been before. That not only will Nahlai have an active competitor in winning the affections of Kolob, but that he will be her deadliest enemy. Rhonva will see her as a threat not only to his control over Kolob, but to his ego, that from all accounts seems to be quite large. If you look back at Rhonva over all our missions, you will see that after each attempt, his strength and influence grows. In the first attempt he was merely a clerk at the Medical Center Kolob went to, who had some causal cesct with him. In the second, Rhonva was a neighbor, who stopped by Kolob’s apartment often, becoming a friend. The third time, he was a corrupt CRODAM officer who introduced Kolob to lleldin. The fourth is when his background grew more complex, his mental power stronger, his influence becoming dominant over Kolob’s psyche. Now he is possibly a powerful agent with either the Leviathan or the TELREC. I wouldn’t want to see what he would become in another incarnation of this timeline.”
Uonil’s advisors worked furiously to document Graid’s words as he pressed on.
“We need to probe deeper into his past in this timeline and understand more fully the major differences this time, why he seems to cha
nge from one to the next, and what the limits of his power are, and most importantly, who controls him.”
Arciss wanted to say something, but couldn’t overcome his fear. Graid sensed it, and pounded his fist on the table.
“What is it, Arciss — speak up!”
“Well, I was thinking, what if the changes in Rhonva are in direct response to our change in methods. If there is one thing that is a universal law, it is balance. What if Rhonva is being changed to balance the changes we bring to each timeline?”
Graid paused for a moment. “That would imply a true master intellect, operating out, and possibly above, the influence of the Kal-Durrell.”
“Yes,” said Arciss simply, happy not to be chastised once again by Graid. All were quiet for a moment, as this suggestion pleased no one.
“Arciss,” spoke Graid, rolling over the possibilities in his mind, “that would imply that we are not in control of this situation. You may be able to function in that state, but I will not and cannot! Sometimes one must deal with the facts presented, and know when to limit hypotheses.”
Uonil nodded in agreement. “So what is your recommendation for this situation?”
“Send Nahlai in now, as before,” replied Graid. “She can help Kolob to the surface, and cause him to become dependent on her. He will see her strength, and feel he could draw some from her. Rhonva will be too busy playing the part of the injured friend to intrude too much into their bonding. We need to counteract the negativity of Rhonva with the love of Nahlai. This is what Martel was speaking of; this is the path he would have endorsed.”
“Surely the TELREC will make Nahlai their first priority, if we reveal her so obviously.”
“And risk Kolob seeing the TELREC kill the one woman he loves? I think not,” replied Graid confidently. “For some reason they have not tempted him with a woman. Is it because they fear his offspring? Possibly they would be born with the same potential? Do they fear he would descend into the same sin of his people, if exposed to his carnal side? Or is it simply that the TELREC never considered love an option, as the emotion has become so diluted among the Novan people that it is almost forgotten. Whatever it is, there is a stalemate. There may come a time when they may try to eliminate her, or discredit her, but it will be at a time that is advantageous to them and their interests. And she is prepared for that eventuality.”
“Do you think,” began Arciss, “that the TELREC may become concerned that we are trying to mate Nahlai with Kolob to produce a genetically enhanced offspring?”
“Dammit Arciss! Did you do any preparation for this meeting?!” yelled Graid, the frustration evident on his face. “Any research at all into the genetic theory of the makeup of the Cuhli-pra? They are not exactly the same as us — not anymore. Their DNA sequence has changed slightly over these past ten millennia since they instituted their chronicle program. The Novan race will only evolve if they mate with one another — we would only dilute and destroy all the work the TELREC have done. That is why they will never agree to unification with us, Arciss. That is why they could care less if he mates with Nahlai, or any other Rell for that matter.”
Uonil sat back in her chair, and reflected for a moment.
Graid surprises me sometimes, thought Uonil. Despite his dalliances into Novan culture, his carnal indulgences, he has a more holistic view of this conflict that even I sometimes. I don’t want to question him openly, but I must know the limits of the Novan influence on him. If he were ever to be truly corrupted, our whole world would be lost!
Graid smiled at Uonil, as if reading her thoughts. “It is a delicate thing, Uonil, this peace we have enjoyed. To disturb it would mean the end of both our worlds, for we are too technologically advanced to survive a full-scale conflict.”
“But Graid, despite the fragility of our peace, we must deal with Rhonva now. He is too skilled, and wields too much influence with Kolob.”
Graid leaned back, his face growing serious. “Rhonva, Rhonva, Rhonva. Let me worry about Rhonva.”
“And Nahlai?” asked Uonil. “What if they choose to disregard the peace as we might?”
“And Nahlai. In the meantime, accelerate the training of the other members of the mission, and make preparations for Kolob’s training on Rell. If all goes well, we will have to bring him to Rell for training.”
“To Rell?”
“Yes to Rell,” pressed Graid. “If there is even the slightest possibility that Mal has deduced some of our temporal maneuvers, they will hunt for Kolob with a vengeance after we take him into our custody. Rellcine should be protected for as long as possible. I am concerned not only about Rhonva, but about the gathering of forces we know not fully of. This planet has never been so rife with tension, full of plots within plots. I can feel it, though I may not know the names of all the players, I know the battlefield is full, and it will only take one shot to bring the opponents into focus. Novan will be a very dangerous place after we have taken Kolob this time.”
“Then, if there is nothing more,” began Uonil, “we should — wait . . .”
Graid and Uonil lowered their heads, as a large download was received. Uonil was the first to look up.
“I apologize, Honored One,” said Uonil, gradually absorbing all the information entailed. “You foresaw this, not moments ago.”
“It is unimportant who was right, so long as productive action comes of the information,” cast Graid. “Here is an update for the rest of you.”
There was a moment of silence, as the others absorbed the download.
“As we all now know, Rhonva has been discovered to be a Novan SC-1 agent,” began Graid swiftly. “This means that the Novans, without TELREC compliance, have begun to spy on Kolob, obviously feeling that he would be too great a weapon for the TELREC to have.”
“This explains how Rhonva was caught beneath the platform, and injured.” Arciss spoke excitedly, his words a-jumble over each other. “A TELREC agent would have possessed foreknowledge of the event, while a Novan would not.”
For a moment, Graid sat motionless, musing over a new direction. “This brings up a bigger question; do we help the Novans?”
“What blasphemy is —”
“Calm down, Uonil, and listen!” shouted Graid, his patience at an end. “Our main concern over these millennia has been what would happen if this being, Kolob, were brought under TELREC influence. But what would happen if he were Novan controlled? With his power and influence, the Leviathan could finally eradicate the TELREC. None of the average citizens hold any affection for the TELREC — there is only fear left in their hearts and minds. The TELREC have done a good job of distancing themselves from the Novan people throughout history and no one will rally to their defense. The Leviathan has always been more willing to listen to our overtures of peace than the TELREC. We must use that to our advantage.”
“Do you know how long we have been fighting, Uonil?” he continued, now passionately energized. “How many different ways we have escalated this conflict? It started with knives, and swords, bow and arrow, cutting flesh, beheading women and children. Then, we grew more intelligent, and learned how to make explosive fire, propel bullets with hollow tips. Then gas, the invisible killer, wiping out more and more people with a single blow. But that wasn’t enough, for the laser made death sanitary, leaving no corpse or reside. Then the remote-control wars of the seventeenth century, dealing death solely through a machine. But we were too smart, we made shields of energy, small enough for anyone to use. So we found a way through the shield; the mental weapons. Thousands upon thousands of cas of war. And now, look what we have come to. Using evolution itself as a weapon with one race propelling itself to the next level of development, seeking the total eradication of the other. We even contravene the laws of time in our attempt for final victory! We must put an end to it, Novan and Rell. We must see beyond our differences in religion, in community, and forge an alliance. This may be the way, Uonil. Kolob may be the key not to destruction, but to final, a
nd lasting peace.”
“You studied the racial history of our people, did you not Uonil, before we all became Novan and Rell alike, this almost uniform dark bronze hue? When we were Iqui, and there was diversity of race on our ancient planet Iq? How many times did power shift among our multi-hued ancestors, who discriminated solely on the color of skin, the thickness of hair and lips? How many times was wealth, and education, kept from people of a different race, condemning them to the status of ‘second class?’ How many people were persecuted because of race, or religion — religions that now seem pagan and barbaric? History is a cruel judge, my dear Uonil. What may seem right and just in one time can seem cruel and short-sighted in another. Well, we rapidly approach a moment when one of us, a Novan or Rell, shall possess a weapon that will completely eradicate the enemy from the face of all existence. There would be no second chances, no opportunity for regret. All at once, a decision for vengeance would be final and irrevocable. Imagine what we would look like to an alien race; two cultures, physically and mentally identical, dueling to the death over intangibles; religion, philosophy, community. We should do everything in our power, explore every avenue of mediation and peace to avert this catastrophe. Together our people would be magnificent.”
Graid could see the future in his mind, a glorious one, where a unified world would go out into the cosmos, and explore, and live, and thrive.
“This finale, this endgame was set in motion too long ago for us to now question our future,” Uonil began, as she stood and paced. “You were created to destroy the Cuhli-pra — no matter the cost. We cannot postulate about political maneuvers and hope the Leviathan would be better stewards of Kolob’s immense power then their brethren the TELREC. We cannot think what future people may think of our choices. We cannot hope TELREC or Novan would look upon our common history as you do, and understand how the mistakes of the past pertain to the present and future. We must make the choice for both of them. It is curious to hear such philosophizing from you, one who has reveled in the joys of the flesh. One who has forsaken his faith. One must have something to believe in besides his fellow man or woman. We had ample time to resolve this conflict peacefully — they have brought out the ultimate weapon. Now our only hope is to counter and nullify it. The plan goes forward, unchanged. We just must make some allowances for Novan interference. But they are too primitive to pose a threat to Rell or TELREC.”
“Look at the larger picture!” cried Graid, still heated and angry. “Do we risk all in this temporal experiment, which continues to damage our timeline in ways we do not yet know? Or do we deal with the problem with our available current resources, by using our minds to influence the course of our history, and accept failure if it comes?”
Who taught Graid this pacifist propaganda? thought Uonil. No one on Novan believes this way. It must have been Martel. Martel, and that Valcha. How I miss that man, but curse him for this contamination!
“You know better than any of us, Graid. We must not fail. We cannot rely on non-absolutes.”
“Kolob is a non-absolute, yet we will depend on him to make the ultimate sacrifice.”
“Kolob can be predicted, and maneuvered!” countered Uonil. “That is the one thing in life all of us, TELREC and Rell alike agree on. The Leviathan cannot. The response of Novan citizens cannot, despite how accurate your supposed ‘intuition’ may be. We must dispose of the most potent threat, with the strongest and most direct means possible. This course of action is not up for debate, for it was set in motion by the Kal-Durrell themselves. Would you argue with them?”
Graid was silent. Uonil sat down, and leaned towards him.
“Would you?”
“No.”
“Then we must proceed as before, and in addition determine how Rhonva as an SC-1 agent will affect our strategy.”
Graid sat back for a few moment, mulling over his defeat. I feel I have a more holistic view of our history than anyone here. There are times the fabric of the past feels as an organism, its shape almost defined in my mind. More and more, I feel we are on the wrong path, that nothing will come of this but our ruin. But the Kal-Durrell must be obeyed . . .
“Fine,” he spat. Sometimes Uonil actually has some strength about her.
Graid stretched his arms a little, shifting in his chair, before he spoke. He was never one for long meetings, never one for sitting still. Even now, he wished he were in the arms of two or three willing female friends.
“Not since our first journey back through time has there been so much left in doubt,” he said casually.
Uonil was deep in thought, going over the Rhonva problem, but nodded in assent to Graid’s comment.
“I agree. There are four significant disruptions; Martel’s death, the TELREC presence at Illint Plaza, Rhonva as an SC-1 agent, Nahlai pursuing a different course in her introduction to Kolob, as well as hundreds of other minor changes.”
Graid thumped his fist on the table. “We must bring this timeline under our control! We must purge the random from this timeline.”
“That is going to be nearly impossible,” said Arciss. Graid leaned in close to him.
“We must do whatever is necessary to gain control once again. Arciss, I want you to lead a team into researching SC-1, Rhonva, all their agents. I want to know what they have discussed for the past three cas, and —”
“He is meant to be your Steward, not your lackey,” said Uonil. “You still have much training to go through, and he must be there with you.”
If there was one thing that was wearing on Graid was the incessant training. It was becoming harder and harder to hide his abilities from them.
“Fine. Assign one of your lackeys to do it. And —”
“And,” said Uonil as she leaned in, her face growing serious, “I don’t think you should deal with Rhonva.”
Uonil knew it was a bold move to challenge Graid so openly, but with Martel’s death, she felt it was time to take over responsibility of him. She knew Arciss would need time to mature into his role as Steward, she could see this meeting was taking its toll on him.
“I agree to that,” said Arciss. He leaned forward in his chair, anxious about what he was to say. “We cannot afford to have something happen to you, Kal-Alçon. We should send some of our agents to deal with Rhonva. He cannot be that strong.”
Graid sat back in his chair, relaxing yet looking at Arciss and Uonil with the eyes of a predator. He felt emasculated by his confrontation with Uonil, as he knew what she was trying to do.
“We have not yet tested your powers, your abilities in the field, only in simulation after simulation.” Uonil grew animated. “You have been too valuable to risk putting in direct conflict, and Rhonva cannot be so strong that one of our agents couldn’t handle him. Arciss, who would be best suited for this mission?”
Arciss looked at his datapad. “Probably Crult, he has the training and —”
“All of you be silent!” shouted Graid. “I have no time for this idle chatter. Let me make this hierarchy clear, lest you have forgotten; I lead, you follow. I am not some weapon to be shined, polished and cleaned, tested on a secluded range, then put away to be admired behind some flex case. The Kal-Durrell may govern our broad future, but I dictate our immediate actions. One of our shortcomings as a people is our inability to act, to make quick decisions, and stand by them. That is why I so frustrate many of you and much of the council of Alçons. I do not share that handicap. I will not submit myself to your weaknesses. Martel used to think on the Three Hundred, and our great sacrifice. What a fool! What foolish people we were, and still are! We were cowards who would rather sacrifice ourselves than face head-on confrontation! We were cowards to abandon Novan!”
Arciss shivered in his chair. “But that is heresy, Kal Al —”
“Be silent!”
Graid’s voice shook the room, sending ruptures through the very concrete and marble, bringing fear to those within. He stood, and looked on them with eyes of fire. Many thou
ghts had been building within him, a consequence of living among the Novans for so long.
“Even the basis for this plan disgusts me, to go back in time and assassinate a young child, to manipulate one as weak as Kolob, use him for our own ends,” spoke Graid quickly. “It speaks of the weakness of our people that we need to abase ourselves in such a manner, as to depend on the murder of an infant to secure the survival of our society. Some of you comment — behind doors that you forget do not shield your thoughts from me — that I am a sinful creature, lost in the decadence of the heathen Novans. How hypocritical! You, each one of you, have forgotten what it means to value life, what it means to commit to the belief that each one of us, Novan or Rell, is of value. Instead, you condemn millions of them to death, just so we can insert our agent in at a fortuitous time? We corrupt and seduce an innocent, so he may murder himself as a child. What of honor? What of dignity? What of standing on a field of battle, and facing your foe, even if the outcome is predicted? If the spirit of the universe decrees the Rell must fall, who are we to argue?”
He paused, looking at the faces of those seated in front of him, feeling that even now his words fell on deaf ears. He sat, frustrated and tired.
“But I stand as a servant of the Kal-Durrell, and no matter what I think, what I believe, I follow their wishes. I will destroy Rhonva, and any others the TELREC send against us. I am the master. And I will not suffer the idiocy of fools. I will handle Rhonva, and protect Nahlai. End of discussion.”
In his heart, as Graid sat back and heard them adjust their planning to his wishes, a seed of dissension and rebellion bloomed in his soul.
Chapter 14