The Whole World in Shards
* * *
Merinel and Adimar resumed their seats on the lifter, and the crescent-shaped bot that had intercepted them at Zaltta’s borders whisked them afore at high speed.
“You should reach Forezaltta within the hour,” Prelt informed them via mutterband. “It is as pleasant a fallow community as you may hope to find – most of its residents would happily reside in Zaltta proper and be most welcome, but the Crew and the Zaltta Entity think it important to maintain a community at that location.”
Merinel smiled at the note of condescension in Prelt’s voice. “Tenbor was fallow until I was a grown woman, Prelt. There’s no need to reassure me regarding the peacefulness of the local savages.”
“Of course,” stammered Prelt. “Of course; forgive me. In any case, there should be no need to tarry in Forezaltta. You should easily cross the Tenth Transverse Crevasse and be in Lhaës by nightfall.”
In due course, a row of structures emerged from the horizon, eventually resolving into massive turrets topped by arrays of polyhedral slabs. Each turret sported an access hatch, but most had been refitted with proper doors and windows, and the lifter halted before one such structure. The door opened to reveal a diminutive Urbith woman, who emitted a chirp of ultrasound as she adjusted a pair of dark goggles.
The Urbith greeted them in an audible register. “Welcome! My name is Zeerit, a female. May I offer you refreshment? It will be the last civilized food before the Tenth, I’m afraid.”
Merinel and Adimar joined Zeerit in the turret’s sitting room, where creature comforts maintained a scrupulous balance with the remaining elements of the turret’s original infrastructure. The affable Urbith spread a tablecloth over a black glass holodisplay pedestal and served tea and cakes. “Fully vetted by Forezaltta’s most finicky Humans,” she announced with pride. “Except for the ones with the baked slugs on top – those are for me.”
The travelers took their repast, taking care not to consume the cakes intended for their hostess, when Zeerit paused and swiveled her dishlike ears towards the foyer. “That’s odd,” she mentioned. “There are sounds emerging from your cargo. Rustlings, as if something were shifting about.”
Merinel noticed movement at the lower periphery of her vision; glancing down, she saw that the length of shawl around her forearm was flashing a message in garish colors: I WILL ATTEND TO IT. MAKE YOUR FAREWELLS. TENBOR.
Merinel arose. “Thank you, Zeerit – we must see to our cargo and depart. I am sorry to leave so abruptly.”
Zeerit, who had remained standing throughout, leapt up on the table in order to bow to her guests. “Think nothing of it. Best of luck on your journey.”
The travelers climbed aboard the lifter, which resumed its journey under its own power as the crescent bot glided back towards Zaltta. Merinel stilled her trembling limbs with a chant as they waited for the vehicle to carry them beyond the range of Zeerit’s hearing. Finally, her bangle gave a soft hum.
“Let me reassure you that there is no immediate cause for alarm,” came the voice of Tenbor.
“That’s comforting, Tenbor, but you know I like to think ahead. Is Tench awake?”
“No. He momentarily entered a state analogous to restless sleep. I have restored his equilibrium.”
“Will it happen again?”
“I’m afraid that is likely. Tench’s totem glyph is counteracting the logic of the prosthesis more effectively than I had anticipated.”
Merinel unwound a length of shawl and called up a map of their route with an overlay of Verch nodes and their reliability. “How long before you lose the ability to maintain his condition?”
“The Lhaës Entity possesses an autonomous node. I have already asked for, and received, permission from the Septet to use this device for the remainder of your voyage.
“I … I don’t know what to say,” stammered Merinel. Autonomous nodes, which functioned regardless of location, represented a potential vulnerability in the integrity of civilized Verchspace, and by extension, civilization itself. Merinel could not recall the last time she had heard of one being deployed. Adimar tightened his grip on his chair.
“Significant though it is, this development does not preclude further risk. The autonomous node places limits on how much logic I can project to your location. I cannot guarantee that Tench will not awaken.”
Merinel sighed and regarded the collection of caskets and crates that concealed her husband from view. “Alright. Let’s say that happens. He wakes up and compels us to return to Tenbor. It doesn’t make sense to turn back now if the only risk is that we might turn back later.”
“I do not relish explaining my presence to a suddenly awoken Tench,” muttered Adimar.
“Don’t be absurd,” scoffed Merinel. “In the first place, there’s nothing to explain. In the second, what would he do? Start tracing glyphs with his fingers?”
“In-radius, he has the ability to bend any machine to his will.”
Merinel shrugged. “I think you’re just overreacting to the fact that he appears in your people’s folklore.”
“And I think you are failing to appreciate that he does not appear in our folklore by accident.”
“Very well,” acquiesced Merinel. “I cannot ask you to subject yourself to unacceptable risk. Let us turn back to shield you from the wrath of my bookish, understated husband.”
Adimar’s cable beat a rapid tattoo on the floor of the lifter as his jaw clenched. “I suppose I must seem very comical to you. Indeed, I hope you are right to laugh. Nevertheless, I am sure you understood that I was not suggesting we turn back.”
Merinel laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Adimar. I did not mean to offend you. And I would never question your courage – I, of all people, would be the last to do that.”
Adimar shifted in his chair and coiled his cable into a tight whorl. “Do not be troubled. A jest may often go amiss. Let us press on. I am eager to see this great Crevasse for myself.”