Authors: Jaine Fenn
‘Have the alignments and sept groupings changed much since you were last here?’ asked Nual.
‘I am not yet sure,’ Ain admitted. ‘I will study them at length as soon as the opportunity arises. Normally change comes slowly to the Consensus, but these are eventful times: we are about to have the second Extraordinary Session in as many weeks.’
Ordinary humans were not usually permitted in the Consensus, so he and Nual had been allocated rooms intended for lingua, on the same corridor, but not adjacent. Jarek looked around, unimpressed. His room smelled stale, and looked like it hadn’t been used for some time. The basic furnishings reinforced his first impression, that this was a sterile, inhospitable place.
Ain told them to use the open com channel to request refreshments. ‘You will be unlikely to be able to procure anything particularly exciting, I’m afraid,’ she added as she left them to find her own quarters.
‘I’m fine for now,’ said Jarek. ‘How long do you think they’ll keep us waiting before they speak to us?’
‘It should not be too long,’ Ain said. ‘Any delay at this stage will be due to last-minute power-brokering behind the scenes.’
Another less-than-reassuring thought. Alone in his room, Jarek’s paranoia redoubled, and he got up to check the door; it opened when he approached, which was a relief. He resisted the urge to pace and instead sat on the hard chair until, bored and uncomfortable, he tried lying on the bed. He’d almost managed to relax enough to close his eyes when his com chirped.
‘We have been summoned,’ Ain said.
‘Right. Guess we’d better go then.’
It was a short walk, and this time they didn’t encounter anyone on the way. Ain led them to a dimly lit circular room. She looked at them both and asked if they were ready.
Jarek glanced at Nual and then nodded at Ain while Nual murmured her assent.
The room darkened further until they were surrounded by darkness, and the floor began to move, which did nothing for Jarek’s nerves. Slowly, pinpricks of light appeared around them.
When Ain had referred to the heart of the Consensus as the Star Chamber, Jarek hadn’t realised she meant it this literally. Their platform was rising into the centre of a projection of Aleph, positioned where the system’s sun would be in reality. Jarek had no idea how big the Chamber was, but the illusion of being surrounded by infinite space was certainly convincing. They looked out across a disc of coloured lights, with a few scattered dots above and below.
One particularly bright light, close enough that Jarek had to blink to focus on it, flashed three times, and a voice said, ‘Consensus in Session. Date as per register. Single item agenda: request from the visiting human-space delegation.’ The voice was dry, efficient and even-toned: the very essence of impartiality. ‘The following septs register vetoing objections to the presence of a Sidhe female in the Consensus. They waive all voting rights for this session . . .’ The Arbiter listed some two dozen names, then added, ‘A further sixty-seven septs make formal complaint, but do not employ right of veto. Their names are recorded in the annotations.’
Jarek reminded himself that as a percentage of the total number of septs in the Aleph system, ninety or so wasn’t that many.
Several lights around the projection started flashing. Jarek looked down and noticed his com was also going off silently; with the screen still furled and nothing in here to project against all he could see was tiny text speeding across the display, far too fast to read.
Ain, noticing the direction of his gaze, whispered, ‘Having the Arbiter speak aloud is partly a way of reinforcing decisions, and partly a concession to what they perceive as human frailty. Most of the action is going on in the background.’
The Arbiter spoke again. ‘All comments are noted. One valid query is chosen. Recognise Last-Cloud-of-Fire, rep:Chaos in Motion.’
The frantic flashing stopped, except for one light above them, in the halo beyond the main mass of the ecliptic. When the voice spoke up it sounded tetchy, although the voices were as much an illusion as the celestial bodies apparently filling the chamber. ‘Statement: This female is the first we have seen for a thousand years. She claims to be a rebel. Query: What evidence is presented for this claim?’
‘Clarification: we assume you do not wish the female to be granted speaking rights?’ asked the Arbiter drily.
‘Negative! We wish to ascertain the reason for her presence and agenda.’
‘Clarification: that is what this session is for. We remind you – and any others who might have
forgotten
– of the resolution reached at our last meeting, to whit: although we have not been openly at war with the females for a millennium, we view their attempt to deploy a mindbomb against one of our brothers in human-space as an end to our truce with them.’
The cold declaration chilled Jarek’s soul. But it was personal too.
That’s my sister you’re talking about there, God rest her
.
The Arbiter continued, ‘Clarification of previously stated protocol: anyone wishing a private audience with the female can request one. We will grant limited access to non-hostile sept representatives according to a randomised selection routine. If your patron’s location precludes real-time contact and he does not grant his avatars full autonomy, we suggest allying yourself with a trusted in-system sept. In your
own
time, not that of the Consensus.’ Jarek decided he must have imagined the small sound of annoyance that followed the Arbiter’s comment. A few more lights flashed, before dying down again.
‘Now, lingua,’ continued the Arbiter, ‘state your case.’
Jarek expected Ain to be nervous. The patrons had no advance warning of the business a lingua brought to the Consensus, and the requests Ain was about to make were likely to cause a degree of upset. But as she started, she sounded calm and confident. This was, she had told them, what she was born to do.
‘Honoured patrons, this lingua has three points to raise. First, this lingua wishes to formally register complaints of abuses that require investigation, specifically, the assaults upon the habitat created to house the visitors, and a more recent attempt to disable their ship.’
‘We are aware of these incidents. The formal complaint on behalf of your charges is noted,’ said the Arbiter.
More lights flashed, and after a moment or two the Arbiter said, ‘Ruling: as several septs wish to comment, we will choose a representative speaker for the isolationist cause. Recognise Indiroth, rep:The Grave and the Constant.’
The male had a pleasant, youthful-sounding voice; ‘his’ celestial body was near the representation of the Consensus, though lower on the ecliptic. ‘Statement: the intruders disrupt the pattern of our home. They must be eliminated, especially the female. Any attempts made by any sept to achieve this should not be taken personally.’
Just how the hell do you expect us to take it?
Jarek bit his tongue; Ain had warned them to stay silent unless directly questioned by the Arbiter.
‘Query: is this an admission of responsibility by your sept?’ asked the Arbiter drily.
‘Negative. We merely wish to point out how disruptive the outsider presence is, and how its removal cannot come soon enough.’
‘Noted. Lingua, you may continue.’
‘Thank you, Arbiter. The second point is in regard to the beacon requested by and promised to the visitors. The sooner they have this item, the sooner they will leave. Given the attempts on the visitors’ lives while they were out-system, this individual felt it was logical to bring them to the location of the item they came here seeking. This way, they may wait in safety, and can take the beacon as soon as it is ready.’ For the first time, Ain’s voice faltered. ‘This lingua realises that in facilitating this she may have passed on information not intended for the visitors’ ears, specifically, the location of the source of beacons. If the Consensus disagrees with this lingua’s decision she will accept chastisement.’
Jarek had no idea how seriously Ain might be punished for taking them into her confidence, but he was relieved to see relatively few flashes going off. The Arbiter said, ‘Ruling: no immediate irreconcilable objections have been raised to your decision. However, we have also informed the Council of Lingua, and they may wish to question your actions. Was there a request associated with this statement?’
‘Affirmative: to ask whether the beacon is ready yet.’
‘No,’ said the Arbiter shortly. ‘The visitors will be informed when it is. Proceed to your final point.’
This was the tricky one. The last time he’d been in a situation like this, sworn to silence while someone who – hopefully! – knew what she was doing put his case for him, Jarek had been up against ignorant peasants, not god-like male Sidhe. And his life was not the only one in danger. He stole a look at Nual; she appeared composed, gazing out with interest at the entrancing illusion surrounding them.
Ain said, ‘Patrons, the visitors were told that the first “accident” on the habitat resulted in the death of the third member of Captain Reen’s crew. However, there is reason to believe that Taro sanMalia is not dead.’
Now lights lit up, lots of them, all over. The Arbiter himself raised the obvious question. ‘Query: what evidence have you for this assertion?’
They’d discussed this: how to make their case without directly accusing the Consensus of lying, especially as it looked like the Gatekeeper had acted with their knowledge, if not their actual permission. Ain had confirmed Jarek’s suspicion that making such an accusation would be dangerous, if not downright fatal: the Consensus’ power relied on being seen to be open and impartial – even when it wasn’t. Jarek clenched his fists.
Let’s hope they’d made the right decision
.
‘Honoured patrons,’ Ain said calmly, ‘this lingua can convey only what has been told to her. The Sidhe Nual knows that Taro sanMalia is alive.’
‘We hardly need remind you,’ said the Arbiter, ‘of the one thing we all agree on: the word of a Sidhe female is worthless. And we are all aware that the female can make you think whatever she wants you to think.’
‘This lingua agrees: she cannot be entirely sure that coercion has not been employed. However, this lingua is as sure as it is possible to be that she acts and speaks freely. Taro sanMalia is alive. And the Sidhe Nual requests that he be returned to the visitors’ ship before it departs.’
‘Query: why?’ asked the Arbiter.
‘He is her lover,’ said Ain.
‘We have had no indication of such a relationship until now.’
‘That is because the Sidhe Nual had a premonition. It convinced her to hide her feelings.’
The Chamber was silent unless someone had been given the floor to speak, so it was hard to tell, but Jarek could have sworn Ain’s comment actually shut them up, at least for a couple of seconds. Then a crazy ripple of lights filled the darkness.
The Arbiter appeared to be ignoring the furore erupting around him. ‘And she admits perpetrating this deception because of her “premonition”?’
‘She does. She has a high regard for her own intuition. She did not see how hiding this fact would make any difference.’
Aside from saving Taro’s life
, thought Jarek.
‘Precognition is extraordinarily rare.’ The Arbiter almost sounded like he was talking to himself now. ‘Her duplicity reinforces the general opinion the Consensus holds of her kind. Whether it constitutes an insult, or an unexpected honesty that could be seen as verification of her apparent wish to eschew her sisters, is an interesting question – fascinating, even.
‘Lingua, do you have anything to add to your statement?’
‘No, Arbiter.’
‘Then your part is done. The Consensus will consider your request regarding the human boy. It is likely that your charges will be subject to questioning. Until then you will remain in your rooms.’
Taro wished he had some way to clean the blood off his hands, but there was no water, no cloth, nothing at all useful in this stupid white, soulless fucking ship. In the end he used Vy’s clothes – it wasn’t like the poor bastard needed them any more. Despite the calm that filled his head whenever he used his blades, he felt sick to the depths of his stomach, because this wasn’t combat. This was butchery.
Having done what Vy wanted, now he couldn’t stop crying. Pathetic. Pointless tears kept flowing while the avatar’s body cooled behind him. After a while he crawled onto the bridge so he wouldn’t have to look at what he’d done.
Thanks to what he’d found out from Vy it was more vital than ever that he spoke to Nual. She had to know what he’d discovered. And he had a mission of his own now.
He sat on the floor, head tilted back against the wall, waiting for the sobbing and shaking to stop, trying to think of some way out of the shit he’d managed to get himself into. Perhaps he should have another look at the control wall, or maybe go outside and see what—
‘Haallooo!’
He stood up as the high-pitched cry came again. ‘Who is it?’ he called back.
The strange voice shouted something incomprehensible.
Wary of a trap, he sidled up to the door, squeezing his eyes shut to encourage his night-vision. When he peered outside he saw six locals, armed with spears, flanking a hunched-up old cove with bonus white ornaments and a really wild hairdo.