The Persistence of Memories - A Novel of the Mendaihu Universe (3 page)

“He may be on Trisanda,” Saisshalé said. “Do
you have anyone up there to confirm?”

“A few,” Natianos admitted. “There are a few
cho-nyhndah up there. They have not seen nor sensed him.”

“A good start,” Saisshalé said with a shrug.
“Not exactly the best laid plans I've seen, but not bad,
considering the situation.”

Natianos grumbled and turned from the window.
Why was it so damned hard to get a reaction out of him? “Let's sit
and talk for a while. I am curious as to where the mighty Saisshalé
has been all this time.”

Saisshalé let out a gravelly laugh and joined
him at his desk. “A man after my own spirit,” he said. “The great
Dahné wishes to know all about his friends as well as his enemies.
You're shaping up to be a fine leader.”

“Sa’im taftika, my friend,” he smiled. “I'm
glad to know that my work is appreciated by such an esteemed
spiritual leader.”

Saisshalé laughed again, this time bitterly,
as he dropped heavily onto one of the two couches in the center of
the room. “Esteemed? I've been all but forgotten by everyone except
scholars and Mendaihu who have very little else to do but come up
with theories and conspiracies. Most Shenaihu remember me by spirit
signature than by name. I'll divulge the long and boring details of
my whereabouts in time, dear sehnadha, but first I ask you this: do
you know why the One of All Sacred has been awakened?”

Natianos saw genuine concern on his face. He
had asked himself the same question almost immediately after Nehalé
Usarai had performed the ritual, and still had not found an
adequate answer. “I thought it may have been an accidental
awakening at first,” he said. “Nehalé Usarai has been aware of my
presence for some time now, and he may have moved in haste,
thinking I might have wanted to make a move on his Mendaihu
territory. But now I'm inclined to believe that he brought the One
out of her slumber to begin a new kind of Season of Embodiment.
Perhaps he thought it was time to bring everyone else along with
her, Meraladhza and Gharné alike. I'm inclined to agree with him,
to be honest. It has been two hundred years since we first set foot
on this planet. The same planet we seeded with our own kind eons
ago. It’s time to take that next step.”

Saisshalé smirked at him. “Over two thousand
years after Gharra's last mass spiritual awakenings, you expect
these people to take another step after only two centuries of us
being here? Quite a few Earthbound people are still coming to grips
with the fact that the Trisandi are their ancestral kin, Natianos.
Two hundred years is
way
too soon for another slap in the
face from the hand of reality.”

“A fair point,” he countered. “Yet the
evolution of Gharra in those two centuries has far surpassed the
evolution of Gharné religion in two millennia. It was time the two
caught up with each other. And as Shenaihu nuhm'ndah, I couldn't
let this new awakening happen without both sides being a part of
it. Once Nehalé did his part, it was inevitable that I follow.”

Saisshalé nodded. “Ah yes, that
inevitability
. You spiritual fools blame fate for all of
this? We are a product of what's already gone on. The Shenaihu are
the way they are because of their abandonment far back in our
history. They used to be allies of the Mendaihu on both Trisanda
and Meraladh. They haven't changed one bit, and neither have the
Mendaihu. Because of that abandonment, the two have become
spiritual enemies whose contention has become blurred over history.
The Shenaihu and the Mendaihu have evolved separately, just as the
Gharné have from us.”

Natianos frowned at him. “Let's say the
Mendaihu evolve, as you say, to the next level, and the Shenaihu do
nothing. What would happen then?”

“It would still play out the same, Natianos,
can’t you see that?” Saisshalé said, impatience creeping into his
voice. “Evolve or die. And eventually the Mendaihu and the Shenaihu
will
merge and become one again, and there’s no avoiding it.
That isn't fate, that’s evolution. Our choice then is whether we
want to retain our independence and individuality.”

Natianos stared at him with a wilting look.
He couldn’t tell if this man was trying to make a point or just
being contrarian to annoy him. “Of course we want our
individuality! That is exactly why I called for you. If the One of
All Sacred had gone through with the Ascension ritual, who knows
what would have happened? Would she have gathered all the Shenaihu
and all the Mendaihu together and turned everyone into
cho-nyhndah?”

“That seemed to be her plan,” Saisshalé
said.

“She doesn't have a plan!” Natianos snapped.
“She's a fifteen-year-old kid from one of the northern sectors of
Bridgetown who has no idea what she's doing half the time. She's
relying on instinct and conferring with emha-sehndayen-ne Eprysia
Kaalen whenever she can.”

Saisshalé laughed again, bouncing back off
the couch and swinging his hands at him. “Ampryss! Well, then!
Never let it be said that times of spiritual upheaval are boring!
I'm finally beginning to see why I have been summoned here,
Natianos. You want me to counter whatever the One of All Sacred
might want to do, is that it?”

Natianos exhaled. “Not blindly. I have faith
that you know when it will be time to act.”

“And when to sit back and observe,” Saisshalé
added. “You have more of a plan than you're letting on, I can sense
that. Don't tell it to me — I don't want to be influenced.”

“I won't. But I still would like to know,
dear sehnadha. Where were you before you were summoned?”

Saisshalé saw the question coming nodded
quietly to himself, weighing his response. “I promised, and I shall
deliver, but only what is pertinent. There are things in my past
that you should not know, or
you
would be influenced.”

“Fair enough,” Natianos said. “We have all
the time in the worlds.”

CHAPTER THREE

Ground Zero

Provincial Governor Anton Rieflin felt the
change in the air as soon as he stepped out of the limousine, a
chill running through his body. The weather at the Mirades Tower
had been a stifling eighty-five degrees with heavy humidity, enough
for any guard on outside duty to max out the cooling coils of their
uniform. Out here in the Waterfront Sector, a cool ocean breeze
slipped up the cross streets and brought the temperature down quite
a few notches. There was a slight tang of ozone and mildew hanging
in the air, the detritus of the Rain of Light’s power. The
superstorm had given the local streets and alleyways a strong power
wash, but it had also caused all kinds of structural damage. A
number of warehouses and older tenements had suffered, and many of
the parks in the area would need relandscaping. As Governor, he’d
viewed the damage and promised immediate assistance, and no one
dared question his decision.

A week had passed since the first attempt at
an Ascension ritual.
Attempt
, he reminded himself, heading
towards the open dock doors of the Moulding Warehouse, surrounded
by his security team. The One of All Sacred hadn’t completed it,
which had come as a shock to everyone, even her most devout
followers. He had to remember this was a brittle moment in Trisandi
evolution, a moment undermined by someone within these city
limits.

The appearance of Vigil had confirmed it for
him. He'd checked the kid’s background the day after the ritual.
He’d eagerly shown his face that afternoon, quite unlike other
jackers who would have remained anonymous. He was goading him,
tempting him. He wanted him to know who he was. Much later he
realized he’d recognized that face; the soft blue eyes, the angular
jaw, the crooked impish grin…he reminded him of someone he
knew.

It didn’t take long to find him. The kid was
Matthew Davison, the only son of the late Provincial Senator
Gregory Davison. Gregory had been an acquaintance in the early
stages of Anton's career, and he'd been quite impressed by the
man's stubborn will to keep a cause alive. The Senator had been a
strong proponent of spiritual rights for both the Mendaihu and the
Shenaihu. He'd been a man who understood both sides, and had died
because of that. His son Matthew had taken up the cause via quite a
different path.

As he approached the warehouse’s dock bay
doors, he suddenly noticed a bit of fresh, glistening graffiti on
the sidewalk and sidestepped too late to avoid stepping on it. It
surprised him, not only that it was dry but that it hadn’t yet been
washed away. Bridgetown's Public Works drones did an amazingly
quick job of cleaning up the city. Perhaps they'd missed this one?
He looked at it one last time before he moved on. In simple block
letters, it said
here lies fate.

He was led inside by a young man in his
mid-twenties who seemed genuinely excited to have him here. He was
a tall and skinny college kid with short blonde hair, and he wore a
light gray sweatshirt with the Bridgetown University logo on the
front. “I appreciate you taking the time to come and visit,
Governor Rieflin,” he said. “We've been hoping you'd stop by. You
can see we are a peaceful group here.” He shot out a hand and
nodded. “My name is Anando Shalei, sir. I've been in charge here
over the past few days. Nehalé Usarai is currently...” His face
reddened briefly. “He’s elsewhere at the moment.”

Anton laughed as he took the kid's hand and
shook it, covering it with his other hand as he did; the least he
could do is start this conversation off on the right note. Anando
brightened instantly and copied the gesture. “I'm sure edha Usarai
would rather not be surrounded by my security team right now,” he
said. “I can't promise him anything, as he’s still under
investigation for starting last week's Awakening ritual. Yes, I
know…it's sort of a moot point right now, but regulations precede
my whims.”

“Certainly,” Anando nodded. “I'll pass
everything on next time I see him.”

“Much appreciated, edha.” Anton glanced
around, taking in the atmosphere of the warehouse. He hadn’t
expected this level of community, especially in so short a time.
People had gathered in various corners and nooks, some in twos and
threes, others in groups of twenty or thirty, all preoccupied with
one activity or another. If there were any potential problem spots,
they were well hidden. “So. What exactly
do
you have going
on here?”

“Well, sir...” Anando started, looking a
little worried. “First I must ask how much you know about the last
few days, from the Awakening to the failed Ascension.”

Anton gave him a warm smile as he recalled
the crash course on things Mendaihu and Shenaihu, as given to him
by Councillor Nandahya Mirades, his Meraladian co-chair. He wasn't
a very spiritual or religious man by any means, but he did have an
open mind. He remembered the stories about the One of All Sacred
from his childhood, and events during the last Embodiment when he
was a young senator. He appreciated the devotion of the One’s
followers, just as he would any religion. He was Governor to all of
Bridgetown, awakened or not.

Anando’s response was a mixture of relief and
excitement. “I’m glad to hear it, sir. Come, let me show you
around.” He gestured at a group of men and women of varying ages,
cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed. Two people sat at the
front, facing them. “This is a beginner's course in soulsensing. A
lot of the recently awakened are in need of guidance. The main
factors of soulsensing — the ability to speak, hear and feel using
just their cho-nyhndah spirit is of the utmost importance. We have
classes of all levels here and also at all the sanctioned houses of
worship in the city.”

Anton was both impressed and relieved. They
continued their tour in a circular fashion around the warehouse
floor, taking a few side trips into some of the wider aisles. These
were the communal areas, set up with hundreds of folding tables and
chairs, donated by DuaLife and other local companies, free of cost.
Here he could see people of all ages sitting in small groups,
conversing or having an afternoon meal.

Anton glanced up at the storage racks every
time they cut down tighter aisles. He was concerned about safety,
but Anando quickly calmed his fears. The racking structures were
less than five years old and were remarkably sturdy and well
anchored to the concrete floor. Many of the bays had been taken
over by squatters, erecting makeshift shanties out of pallets and
plywood. Many had taken to the lower and middle levels, and many of
the youths were already camping out up top, ascending and
descending with amazing agility. For a moment the Governor in him
kicked in and nearly barked out a tirade about safety regulations,
but quickly pushed that aside with smile. Obviously these people
were good at taking care of their own.

“Governor Rieflin!”

He glanced around, not quite sure where the
woman’s voice had come from. Finally he saw the Meraladian, four
bays high and three over, leaning precariously over the edge and
waving at him. “Up here, Governor!” she cried.

He his security detail twitch into action,
and he immediately lifted a hand to signal them back. He stepped
forward alone, squinting up as he did. Her face was partially
obscured by the bright shine a nearby light fixture, but he
recognized her Mannaki features immediately.

“Mancka?” he called out. “You’re still
here?”

Mancka Udéma had been the sole Mendaihu
representative on the Provincial Governor's Council until her
disappearance the day of the failed Ascension, when she'd come down
to witness the arrival of the One of All Sacred.
She was an uncharacteristic Mannaki, as she was not tall as
most, had a more human almond-shaped face than the wide
Meraladhza
, and
certainly did not conform to the typical fashion of short-cropped
hair and conservative dress. Her hair was unbound and past shoulder
length, and she wore casual street clothes. She was the quietest
member of the PGC but also the most visible, as a reminder that the
Mendaihu were always present in some way, and they looked like
anyone. Strange comfort, but comfort indeed.