Hellfire (THEIRS NOT TO REASON WHY) (48 page)

“Patience, High Priest,” Ia admonished lightly. “What Priestess Laka’thi has not told you is that in those recordings of the seventeen times, the locking mechanism consists of twenty tightly fitted bronze hooks tension-clipped over twenty rods set in twenty holes, with each hook and rod facing a different direction from the next. Some of those hooks are set in one half of the box, while some are set in the other, with their holes in the opposite half.

“The lid itself possesses a small but significant shoulder lip to prevent a thin blade from being used to push those hooks free,” she added, studying the timestreams in the back of her mind. “There is no mechanical way to open this box other than a hacksaw or a cutting torch once it has been sealed shut.”

“You’re stalling,” Ibeni-Zif stated.

“I am not stalling. I am taking my time so that I do not break it. The metal is old, some of the inner oxidation has crystallized together, and those hooks are still as stiff as the day they were first crafted, which is why I need to be careful,” she added, gifts turning from the timestreams to the box itself. “That, and
twenty is a lot of them to keep track of, even for a skilled telekinetic. But…not impossible…and that’s the last hook I needed to bend.”

She trailed off, concentrating. A careful twist of her mind and a slow, firm pull separated the two halves of the box. The hooks did indeed line the edge, some pointed up, others pointed down, angled this way and that. Those hooks, their holes, and the inner edges of the box had not been waxed in centuries, leaving it a dull shade of green. Nested in that green, slightly crusted with bronze verdigris, sat another object.

Setting the top of the Puzzle Box on the table, Ia inverted the bottom half over her hand. It took her three shakes to dislodge the inner brick. Shaped like the outer box, if on a smaller scale, the inner object looked like it had been crafted from a single light green tourmaline, or maybe peridot, save that its edges were more bluish in hue.

Whatever it was, the transparent material had rounded corners, and contained a bronze box of its own inside. The only catch was, there was no catch; the inner crystalline box had no seams whatsoever. Either the inner bronze box had been dipped in molten glass, or some sort of gem had been grown around it.

“…May I?” Laka’thi asked Ia, holding out her hand toward the box. Seated to Ia’s immediate right, with the Highlord Adjutant on her other side, she didn’t have to stretch to do so.

A quick check of the timestreams confirmed what the woman was about to do. Nodding, Ia passed the gem-brick to her. Before the others could ask why she wanted it, the Archivist raised the translucent box high in her hand and smashed it down with a startlingly loud
crack!
against the edge of the polished-wood table. Ibeni-Zif and Sa-Nieth both jumped, and the High Priest clutched at the robes covering his chest.

“What are you
doing
?” he demanded, scandalized. “That is a
sacred artifact
you’re trying to smash!”

“Calm yourself, Your Holiness,” Ia told him, lifting her hand. “She’s actually doing her job, by proving that case isn’t made of mere glass. If you examined the table, you’d see a faint indent from where it struck.”

“The Terran is correct,” Laka’thi confirmed, holding up the gem-like case, showing it intact. “The Archives recorded how this inner box was placed between a hammer and an anvil, and struck with full strength. I am no blacksmith with bulging arms,
but this table would break under my blows long before this case ever would.

“There is no seam, and no sign of a way to open it. No one has ever touched the inner box since the Immortal herself crafted it.” She lobbed the box at Ia, who caught it one-handed. “If you
are
the Prophet, you will be able to open it, ‘Ia.’ The Immortal has said so.”

Ia shrugged and offered it to the Grand General, seated to her left. “Feel free to examine it for a seam, meioas, before I do so. Once I open it, there is no going back. What has been seen cannot be
un
seen.”

“Do the Terrans train all of their officers to boast and grandstand?” he asked her, accepting the box and turning it over in his hands, thumbnail questing along the crystalline sides in an attempt to discern a seam. “Or did they just train you?”

“True grandstanding would actually detract from my message, sir,” Ia told him. “It is the messages I bring that are important. I am merely their vessel. I am also giving each one of you a chance to verify personally that there is no way to get through that outer covering. No cracks, no hinges, no seams…and no tricks.”

He frowned and scraped his finger over it again, then shook his head and offered it to the High Priest. “I cannot see a way to open it.”

Ma’alak examined it. His thinner face also furrowed as the seconds of his examination ticked into a full minute, until with a frown of his own he passed it over the table to the third man. Highlord Sa-Nieth turned it over several times, rubbing his thumbnail over all the surfaces and angles, then shrugged and handed it to Laka’thi, who returned it to Ia.

“As you have seen for yourselves,” Ia stated, running her thumb all the way around the edge, “this ‘secret’ has no openings. It is a solid piece, with no hinge, no lock, and no lid.”

Shifting her grip, she grasped top and bottom, carefully focused her psychic abilities…and pulled the gem apart like a pair of simple lids, using the same gentle patience she had used on the outer case. The act revealed the unoxidized, pristine bronze box nested inside.

The High Priest’s jaw dropped, the Highlord Adjutant’s eyes bulged, and the Grand General choked on his caf’, grabbing for his own napkin. Of the four of them, only Priestess Laka’thi
sat as still as a statue. Her face was now flushed, but she didn’t blink, and didn’t breathe.

Ia dropped the upper lid—which was solidly pale blue, not green—onto the table with a crystalline
ching
. The musical sound provoked a blink from the elderly woman. It was followed by a deep breath. She looked like she was experiencing a holy revelation, caught up in the unthinking awe of the moment. Glad the other woman was at least breathing again, Ia eased the box from its depths and dropped the bottom half of the crystalline container next to the top half.

Unlike the outermost one, this bronze box hadn’t been exposed to either moisture or oxygen since its creator had sealed it up in the first place. But, just like the outer one, this one did have a thin, flush-fitted seam.

“This Puzzle Box is sealed with a system similar to the one used on the previous one, save that it has only ten hooks, not twenty.” Another careful twist-and-push of her mind, and she pulled the two pieces apart, revealing her words to be true. She set that lid next to the other pieces, the outer bronze casings, and the middle blue-crystalline lids. This time, the interior of the box had been padded with a rectangle of what looked like plain grey felt.

Tipping the contents into her palm caused the felt to fall out, but that was alright; the felt was merely there to pad the transparent rectangle stored inside, to keep it from rattling. Ia tilted her hand, shaking it slightly to discard the wool, then turned the bookmark-sized slab over and laid it on the table.

It was crafted from the same material as the crystalline box, though its creator had forged it from two tones of crystal, the sapphire blue of the middle box and a pale golden hue. With the polished V’Dan wood of the table beneath accenting that yellow, the double line of characters forged into the slab were easy enough to read. One line had been crafted in archaic V’Dan script; the other had been printed in block-letter Terranglo. Both said the exact same thing, a simple, single phrase.

Iantha’nn sud-dha.

Amused by the Immortal’s sense of humor, Ia smiled. Picking up her cup, she took a sip of her caf’, set it back down, and pushed her chair back. “I do believe we are done here, gentlebeings. My birth name and emancipation records can be easily verified within the hour. You do not need me for that. You also
have my current set of prophecies, tailored for each of your needs. When it is the right time to receive more of them, you will indeed receive them—you have my Prophetic Stamp on that.

“In the meantime, do keep in mind that both my existence and my prophecies are
not
to be used or abused for any personal agendas, whether religious, political, or otherwise. I am here to help save as many lives as I can, whether they are Sh’nai or otherwise, V’Dan or Terran, Tlassian or Solarican, Alliance lives or the lives of a hundred sentient species we haven’t even met yet.” Rising, she bowed politely. “I thank you for your hospitality and the cup of caf’. It was delicious.

“If you’ll excuse me, this is the first chance for Leave my crew and I have had since my command was first assembled, and I would like to go enjoy some of it myself. I’m sure Leftenant P’kethra can show me back out to the public sector, so that the four of you can sit here in peace and quiet without being hobbled by my presence while you discuss the implications of all of this.”

“…How did you open that?” Lifting her head, Laka’thi gazed at Ia. “No one has been able to open that inner box in all our records. No one even knows
what
that crystal box was made from, just that the Immortal herself made it.”

“That’s because the Immortal will have borrowed that knowledge from the secrets of the Third Human Empire…which has yet to be born as an empire,” Ia said, her tone wry. “Both of us are bound by the strictures of Time to keep that information a secret, as it is something we are only permitted to borrow for our personal use and are not to divulge to any others. I hope you will respect my right to temporal secrecy when it comes to another government’s secrets, just as you would expect me to respect your own sovereign rights to secrecy.

“Long live the Eternal Empire, meioas, and long live the alliance between us. Have a good day,” she finished politely, and gestured for the junior officer to lead the way out of the conference room.

He gave the others a bemused look, then gave in with a dip of his head and headed for the door. Ia made a mental note to pass along a letter of commendation for his discretion and sense of equilibrium in the face of the day’s events. A recommendation
from a foreigner would carry some weight, but one offered by the Prophet—now confirmed as such—would carry even more.
Good junior officers are hard to find, after all. Particularly the unflappable ones.

Her quarry sat as he usually did at this time of the day, just after the end of a shift filled with cleanerbot herding. Grizzled hair slicked back, wrinkled brown skin sporting the same golden undertones as most V’Dan did, he sat with his elbows on his knees, a sugarstick dangling between two fingers. Most of his attention was on the great bay window giving a few of the planet’s curve and gleaming streaks of sunlight.

Placed as it was in the V’Dan homeworld’s L2 orbit, slightly farther out than the planet’s shadow could cover, there was a constant halo effect. Coupled with the ionosphere’s auroras, the view was spectacular, worthy of being watched. It also helped that the window was half-silvered, dulling the brightness of the local star. There were several benches arrayed before the window, taking advantage of that view, but only a few were occupied, and no one but the old man in the dark blue pants and grey shirt sat on the centermost one.

It was hard to picture this tired-looking, somewhat elderly man as being the real power on
Tatth-Niel
, but Ia knew better. He looked up at her approach, lifting the sugarstick to his lips. She gestured at the broad bench. “Mind if I have a seat?”

“’S a free port,” he grunted, sucking on the flavored stick.

Unbuttoning her Dress jacket for comfort, Ia sat and removed her hat. The bench was a little low, but not uncomfortable. Leaning forward, she braced her elbows on her knees, letting the cap dangle from her fingertips. “Nice view.”

“That, it is,” he agreed.

(
I trust you know why I’m here?
) Ia asked, shaping and aiming the thought carefully.

He slanted a sidelong look her way. (
You aren’t a player, half child.
)

(
It won’t be long before I manifest,
) she warned him. Dropping her gaze to her cap, she rotated it slowly in her grip. (
I’m not here to compare bubble-sizes, Kierfando,
) Ia stated. (
I am here to counteroffer Miklinn’s intent to ask you to faction for a counterfaction against me.
)

(
What could you possibly offer me, half-breed?
) he replied, sucking again on the stick.

Leaning over, she offered her hand palm up. “Ia,” she said aloud in introduction, adding silently, (
Come and see.
)

“Kier,” he grunted out loud, clasping hands. (
Why should I even—
)

Counting the offer of his touch as permission given, Ia dragged him onto the timeplains. In the real world, his brown eyes lightened to amber for just a few heartbeats. At least, out in the physical world. In the timeplains, she emerged on the bank with her hand stuck in an oversized silvery sphere and a lot more Time on her side.