Visor said, “We have to get by the dock before they start closing. Will he be at the jail?”
Peter said, “Yeah, probably, if not still here.” He yelled down the hall for assistance.
Visor helped Peter secure Nic before leaving.
As the Hand exited the hospital, Visor asked, “How did you know Nicodemous was there?”
Sorana took several steps before answering. “How did you not?”
Chapter 41
Ranie
Finnur said, “I would guess that you always carried the traits of a druid, and that the AciesMagus experiments activated or enhanced them. The connection you have with that cat is quite remarkable. I haven’t known other druids personally, but from what I understand, your telepathy with the leopard is unique. Your empathic transference with other animals is at least as impressive as any on record. The same could be true for you healing, as you suspect. Actually …” He looked down at her abdomen. “What I would like to do is have Visor come with you for another consult. I would also like to collect some fluid samples today, if you would be able to make it by my office tomorrow. Our lab might have some initial indications within a week.
Rapture said, “Oh, I don’t think we’re staying that long.”
“Well, what I’ve been able to tell you today is all highly hypothetical. With at least some testing, I could provide some better answers. Would you be able to reschedule your other plans?”
“I can ask, but I know we’re in a hurry to get out of here.”
“When would you be returning?”
“I don’t know. We’re going far away, so probably a long time.”
“Then I am sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“I appreciate what you said.” Rapture stroked Burke. “I will try to make it by your office before we go—at least get you some samples. Then if we come back, we already have results.”
The door opened and a woman entered. She was taller than Finnur—close to Don’s height. Her platinum blond hair was notably long, hanging past her waist in the back. Rapture squinted. The woman’s eyes were different colors—blue and violet. “Ranie?”
The woman stopped. “Rap?”
The two hugged. Rapture nearly gagged. “Whoa, did you come from a bar?”
“No, I was at home. I spilled a brandy earlier. Sorry, I forgot how sensitive your nose is.” Ranie pointed. “Are those the bracers?”
Rapture pulled up her sleeve. “M-hmm.”
Ranie cradled a bracer and fell silent. Her countenance shifted as she stroked and studied the bracers. “This is—where did you get these?”
Rapture said, “From a woman that calls herself Mercy. She lives in Skarholt Forest.”
“Where did she get them?” Ranie’s eyes darted as she read.
“I don’t know.”
Finnur asked, “Do you know what they are?”
Ranie said, “They are … very old—the inscriptions at least.” She stroked a figure. “This appears to be a Proxy.”
“A Proxy?” Rapture looked closely at the figure. It wasn’t very detailed. “It looks like a vardal or vampire—possibly a human, though. I can’t even tell if it’s a man.”
Ranie turned Rapture’s wrist and leaned in close to a symbol. “It could be any of those, but it doesn’t matter. According to Dodelige scripture, Proxies are metaphysical beings. They simply inhabit the bodies of Esselin races—rarely humans, actually.”
Rapture said, “I heard something about the Dodelige.”
Ranie said, “The Dodelige was a church. It was outlawed and faded away generations ago.”
Sister Mary said, “It is called a cult by some.”
“A cult … the Black Velvet Religion … the Scourge of God … the Burning Sin—it goes on.” Ranie counted on her fingers as she listed names. “Some of their beliefs ran counter to those of the White Heart Mission. In particular, Proxies held the status of semi-divinity assigned to sirens by the White Heart.”
Finnur asked, “How would you know if someone is a Proxy?”
Ranie said, “You wouldn’t. They would only reveal themselves by accident or in an emergency—perhaps to protect one of us.”
Finnur asked, “From what?”
Ranie was still concentrating on the bracers. “Drones.”
Rapture asked, “Okay, what’s a drone?”
Ranie grabbed a parchment of Finnur’s. “May I?” She flipped the parchment over and drew a circle on its back side. “It’s like this. Esselin is our realm.” She drew some happy faces inside the circle. “This is where we all live—human, vardal, siren …. Now—” She drew another circle above the first one, and populated it with some dots. “—here is the Proxy home, the Meta Realm. This—” She drew an hourglass between the circles “—is the Frame. It is what allows the Proxies to transfer into one of us.” She drew line from a dot in Meta Realm through the Frame to a happy face in Esselin.
Ranie raised a finger. “Now, a drone is a Proxy derivative. There was one Proxy that passed through the Frame and inhabited an Esselin body, but something went wrong.” Ranie drew another line from a dot in Meta Realm across the Frame into Esselin. At the Esselin end of the line, she drew a sad face. “He was a fallen Proxy.”
Sister Mary said, “Belial.”
Ranie said, “It is not clear if Belial was exiled from Meta Realm or if he escaped. He is sometimes referred to as ‘The Fallen’. In any case, according to the best evidence, he strives to return to Meta Realm by taking control of the Frame from the Esselin side. If he controls Frame, then he will be unopposed in our world, meaning all manner of suffering for Esselin. He possesses powers that other proxies do not. He is able to psychically dominate other people and control them as mindless drones.” She drew an arrow from the unhappy face to a happy face, and put an X over the happy face.
“He is also able to transfer to a drone without the use of the Frame. This effectively gives him immortality.” She drew an arrow from the sad face to a happy face, and made the happy face sad. “The efforts of Belial precipitated the Proxy War—the Frame and Her Proxies battling Belial and his Drones. It is not a war of cavalry and siege weapons. It is a struggle of subterfuge and deceit, played out in our world over millennia.”
Rapture asked, “How did it end?”
Ranie shrugged. “There is no evidence that it ever ended.”
Finnur said, “There is little evidence that it ever existed.”
Ranie said, “Please excuse me professor, but I would differ on that point.”
“Cave drawings, fossils and folk tales are not evidence.”
“Do opinion polls and dream interpretations make a better basis for science?”
“If you would spend half the time on your psychiatric papers as you did pursuing this witchcraft, you would easily be the top student of your class.”
“Am I not?”
“But if you put forth the effort, you could—”
“What, write papers on mastication-induced arousal? “
Finnur gesticulated and turned away. “I apologize, Engels.”
Ranie studied the bracers further. “See here—the woman with two faces?”
Rapture squinted. “Yes, is she a Proxy?”
“Not according to the inscriptions.” Ranie pointed out various features on the bracers as she described them. “If you notice, this face is tilted downward, toward this crowd of people. Those people are probably a mixture of Proxies and regular people. The other face tilts upward toward these stars.”
“What is in her hands?” The etching was too small for Rapture to make out.
Ranie grabbed the lantern off the table and held it near to the bracer. “In the hand corresponding to the crowd, she is holding a spiked mace. Under it is an inscription that says ‘For the world’. The other hand holds an orb and says ‘for the Meta’.”
“What is the inscription under her feet?
”
“It means ‘Save’.”
“Save what?”
“It’s a double imperative.”
“What?”
“Sit down.”
Rapture sat.
“No, an imperative is a grammar tool. You assume the subject. ‘Sit down’ means ‘You sit down’. You don’t say ‘you’ but people assume it. That isn’t true in every language, though. In vardal, for example, ‘sit down’ means ‘I will sit’ or ‘I want to sit’. In Dodelige, the imperative implies a self-directed object. ‘Save’ means ‘You save me’.”
“From what? Who is she talking to?”
“To whom she speaks is not clear. You must realize that most of what I tell you here is pieced together. In fact, it is illegal to publicly discuss. I’m just not sure this is the place.”
Sister Mary stood. “Doctor Finnur, do you understand that this entire discussion is part of your consult?”
“Certainly, Engel.”
Sister Mary walked to the door and smelled the air. She checked that it was latched. “You were asked here because you are on retainer to the Sanctuary. Everything Rainaria says is part of the same consultation.”
“Everything will be treated as confidential.”
Mary said, “Sister Rapture?”
“What?”
“Do you understand that we don’t want to repeat this information? We don’t want to cause problems for our consultants … or the Sanctuary.”
“What, about the Proxies? Oh, sure—of course.”
Sister Mary returned to her chair but did not sit. “We are in confidence, Rainaria. Continue.”
That reminded Rapture—oh, no! “Um, I forgot I’m not supposed to tell anyone about the bracers. I know I should have said something before now.”
Mary said, “It is fine, Rapture.”
“I mean, it’s actually the gem, not the whole bracer.”
Mary said, “Present company is safe, Rapture.”
Ranie said, “The woman could represent the Frame. It could be that she is asking the Proxies to protect her from Belial and the drones. But in this context, I imagine it refers specifically to Belial’s daughter.”
Finnur asked, “You mean he reproduces?”
Ranie said, “The Proxy War has lasted millennia. It is in stalemate—or was, rather. Belial created an offspring to upset balance of power. She is unnamed in documents, but convention is to call her Spawness. Spawness was designed to destroy the Frame’s guardians. But as the story goes, the process of her conception was interrupted—one might suppose by a Proxy, though that isn’t explicitly stated. The result is that she has free will. Her loyalties will be determined by her own life experiences. So the Frame could be asking for protection from Spawness, or asking Spawness for protection from Belial.”
Sister Mary said, “Continue.”
Ranie took a deep breath. “The concept of the Spawness is referenced in other stories, and in different light. By the White Heart Mission, Spawness is known as Mortal Banshee.”
There was a moment of silence.
Finnur moved up and put his hands on Rapture’s chair. He spoke in a subdued tone. “Then all of this discussion should be past tense. That explains why the Dodelige cult died out—the Pale Siren killed the Mortal Banshee in the fire.”
Ranie said, “Except that Pale Siren is a fabrication, at least as people understand her.”
Finnur said, “They’re the same religion.”
“How convenient is it—a beautiful creature from the clouds, of pure white defeating the dark enemy of the White Heart? That the richest, most powerful organization in Esselin has this mystical protector of the people at its beck and call? That this fairy tale suddenly became a historical figure when there is almost no evidence of it ten years ago?”
“Rainaria! We are in the Sanctuary.”
“And we are not the aloof cripples we are so often taken for. Spoken respectfully, all views are allowed.” Sister Mary focused on Ranie. “Pale Siren or no, the Mortal Banshee died in the fire.”
“The Dodelige script is specific in calling Banshee ageless, but not immortal.” Ranie nodded in capitulation. “She could have been killed in a fire. The Dodelige, however, believes Banshee is still alive.”
Sister Mary asked, “And how would that be possible, Rainaria?”
“The popular interpretation is that Banshee exists as some sort of metaphysical being. Perhaps as a memory passed along by telepaths through the generations.”
Finnur said, “Conveniently difficult to prove or disprove.”
“There is also the interpretation that Spawness is a real creature, magical in nature. But that reasoning usually doesn’t hold up under scrutiny. Why haven’t we seen her again? What is her motivation? Does she have to eat? Does she live in isolation, or among us?
Finnur said, “To live among us, she’d have to be a shapeshifter or move often.”
Sister Mary asked, “Is there another interpretation, Rainaria Lewis?”
Ranie stared at the bracer. “Yes, there is, Sweet Sister Mary. There is one that most don’t like to discuss, but makes the most sense.” Ranie stroked the sapphire. “It is said that Belial sacrificed a part of himself to birth Spawness. It could be that he seeded a nymph, and that Wescott’s ‘immortality’ refers to cloning. I would note that accounts of Banshee’s appearance are conflicted and quite suspect. There is not enough information to suggest what strain of nymph she would have been.”
Sister Mary lowered her head. “Any of us could be the creature.”
Finnur said, “If any of this were true.”
Sister Mary said, “Yes, of course.”
Chapter 42
McKinsey’s
Rapture stuffed a loose tuft of tell-tale red hair back inside her hood. “If I had the brains you did, I wouldn’t be drinking that filth.”
Ranie cradled her mug as if it were a treasure. “There are different kinds of smart.”
“Well, I don’t have any of them.”
“Really?” Ranie sighed. “Tell me—what is the first thing you think when you wake up in the morning?”
“Usually that I want to go back to sleep. Then I start feeling hungry, I guess. It depends. When we’re at a place, like Xandria or Mercy’s, we can eat and wake up normally. It’s been so busy, though.”
“And then what?”
“Well, if we’re traveling, it’s pretty much ‘drag myself to the horse’—or Gebuhrman. I sometimes help pack up, but the boys and Sorana usually have that done already. They’re all morning people.”
“And what about the days when you aren’t traveling and don’t have a pressing engagement?”
Rapture said, “That never seems to happen.”
“What do you plan to do first thing tomorrow morning?”
“I don’t know. It’ll probably be something like ‘Hey Rap, get your ass up! We need to stock the boat.’ Well, maybe he’ll have some time for me. That usually depends on where we stay. He likes to spend time with me when we’re in nice places, like Mercy’s—ug, I can’t stand that woman.”
“You don’t know where you’re staying tonight?”
“Don hasn’t said yet. The Sanctuary would be nice. We’d probably get stuck in the hospital, though.”
Ranie’s knuckles were white. “So what you’re saying is you’re not worried about tonight because it will work out somehow. That you don’t spend the first minutes each morning wondering if anyone would care if you never got up?”
“What do you mean?”
Ranie took a drink. Her eyes momentarily began to well, but she recovered. “Is sorrow so truly a woman’s heart? What would it be to wear joy as a shroud? To spread happiness as a wildfire?” She met Rapture’s eyes. “To be the stuff of beauty in and out … to be the personification of love?”
“I don’t know about that.”
“But you know it to be true. We all do
. I hate you, and even I love you. We are chemically bound to.”
“What? Why?”
“Exactly. You will never understand, and that has nothing to do with smart.” Ranie took a drink. “And everything to do with it. To lay there at night, and never be able to just turn it off … no matter what I do, it just won’t stop.” Ranie finger-combed her hair back over her ears, then pressed her palms to her temple. “It’s like something is broken inside … like someone opened the valve and broke off the handle. Sometimes I just feel like I’m going to short out some day, and then I will sleep.” She refocused on her bottle. “This helps, though.” Ranie looked past Rapture. She sat back and narrowed her eyes.
Rapture smelled Don and Sorana behind her.
Don rested his hands on Rapture’s shoulders. “Hi, Ranie.”
Ranie crooked an eyebrow and crossed her arms.
***************
Athian arrived with Cespenar.
Mackenzie’s got livelier as more customers gathered.
Cespenar sat on the table, cross-legged, leaning against a goblet. “That’s really the only other time she helped in a fight. Talon usually keeps her in the carriage or his tent.” He leaned over so suck up some double-sweet mead.
Visor stroked Rapture’s thigh under the table. “So really, she just used the sonic attack to defend herself?”
“Then she really hadn’t gone banshee. She’s just sort of a …” Athian rolled his wrist as if to stimulate his brain.
“A difference siren.” Ranie’s voice was horse.
Visor smelled Rapture’s hair. “Difference siren?”
Ranie let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes to look out the window. “A difference siren—one that’s not quite innocent but hasn’t gone banshee.” She rubbed an eye brow with her middle finger. “You know, ‘Show him the difference’.”
Athian put down his drink. “Yeah, difference siren!” He looked at Sorana, then Visor, as if expecting an emphatic response.
Visor said, “I don’t know.”
Athian said, “It’s a fable. A boy was playing with some friends in the woods. They came across a nymph at a pond. She did not see them. They hid and watched her. They followed her home. It seemed as if she lived alone. A discussion ensued between the boys on whether the nymph was a banshee or a siren. On a dare, one of the boys approached and asked her if she was a siren or a banshee. She said that she didn’t want to discuss the matter—that she only wished to be left alone.