* * *
Foreward of Lhaës, the hull began to feature a texture of ridges. When Merinel first noticed them they represented little more than a visual distortion of the surface, but they gradually increased in size until they were quite noticeable, and continued to grow more pronounced until they were nearly as tall as the lifter itself. Topsoil had collected in many of the depressions formed by the ridges, and for the first time in their journey the travelers saw wild vegetation, in the form of grasses and shrubs that had colonized these islands of firmament. As they progressed towards Mastmarch, the coverage of soil became complete, and they found themselves traversing a meadow with no trace of visible hull.
Mastmarch itself emerged from the horizon as a palisade of columns. At first the travelers had no way to judge their height, but as they drew closer it became clear that each column was several stories high and perhaps a hundred yards from its neighbors, as Merinel already knew from her reconnoitering in the Verch. The settlement itself was loosely centered on the palisade, with the largest buildings abutting – and in some cases encompassing – the columns themselves. When not encumbered by other structures, the columns were for the most part unadorned obelisks of a dark bronze metal, five- or six-sided, and occasionally marked by artwork or weathering.
As they came in-radius of the Mastmarch node, a Trylm face flickered into existence above the lifter’s display panel. “Welcome! I am Ensign Neldin, female, liaison officer to Mastmarch. I understand you plan to make the journey to Irinon tomorrow. Please guide your conveyance to the residence indicated, and let me know if you require further assistance.”
“A somewhat tepid reception, relative to our previous hosts,” remarked Adimar once Neldin’s visage had disappeared.
Tenbor’s dove avatar shimmered into existence in Neldin’s place. “Mastmarch is a less secure environment that those we visited previously. To draw undue attention to our errand would be imprudent.” Adimar nodded sagely; Merinel rolled her eyes.
Their destination proved to be an ellipsoidal building at the base of an otherwise unmodified column. The structure’s large door and spacious interior easily accommodated the lifter, but it was clearly not a residence, despite the valiant efforts made by Mastmarch’s Crew to equip it with a functional modicum of furniture. Sighing, Merinel unwound her shawl and spread it against one gently curving wall. The garment adhered to the surface and extended to its full length and width, displaying an image of Merinel’s home in Tenbor.
Byx bounded into view. “Mommy! Where are you now?”
“I’m in Mastmarch, honey.”
Byx’s eyes widened. “The fallow town? Is it horrible?”
“Certainly not,” admonished Merinel. “It’s quite pleasant in its own way. Why in the world should it be horrible?”
“’Cuz it’s uncivilized.”
“Nonsense. It has a node and a Crew outpost.”
“But no Entity and no bots, right?”
“Well, Tenbor is still with me. But there is no Mastmarch Entity, and not as many bots as you’re used to.”
“Does it teem with peril?”
“No it does not,” replied Merinel, glaring at Adimar.
“Well, be careful anyway.”
“I will, sweetie. I’m going to take down the shawl now, but I’ll put it back up at dinnertime.”
“OK.”
“Be good for Colombe.”
“I know.”
“Goodbye.”
Byx scampered out of view, and Merinel wound the shawl about her arm again. She was startled to note a pattern of silver doves chasing each other across its surface.
The voice of the Tenbor Entity emanated from the gently vibrating garment. “Merinel, I require your assistance. Please join me in the local Verchspace.”
Alarmed, Merinel retrieved a crown from a container on the lifter and slipped it onto her scalp, settling into a cross-legged position on the nearest bed. She saw Adimar leap to his feet as the crown’s impulse surged across her senses, erasing the physical world.
Mastmarch’s entry Verchspace was an immense torus woven of the bronze pillars that defined the physical community. The braided ring had its own gravity, and the folk of Mastmarch made their way to their further destinations by stepping onto glowing runes on its surface, which flared in response to the purpose or wanderlust of their traversers, whisking them away to other locales.
Before she could react, a rune beneath her feet flared with silver light and she found herself atop the antenna spire once again. Against the central structure which contained Tenbor’s node, Tench leaned, supporting himself with both arms, his head bent low. At first Merinel assumed he was exhausted or ill, but noting the corded muscles of his shoulders, she saw that he was pushing against the node housing with all his might, as if he were trying to topple it. She restrained her urge to rush to him.
Tenbor’s quicksilver dove appeared next to her. “We are in the secure Verchspace of the autonomous node. Tench’s dream state is growing increasingly active. I apologize for not giving you more information prior to transferring you here, but I believe your presence may be helpful in returning him to a more restful condition.”
“What should I do?”
“Try to reassure him that all is well, that it is safe for him to rest – I am doing what I can to induce a sense of fatigue via his totem glyph. Here in the Verch, his aversion to physical contact will not be a factor in your interactions. Nevertheless, it is unsafe for him to approach full consciousness. His dysfunctions arose within the Verch, and they are capable of reinforcing themselves herein.”
Merinel shuddered as she recalled the severity of Tench’s condition at its worst – cowering in fright if another person so much as glanced at him, yet howling in panic if Byx were removed from his supervision. She uttered a chant to clear away mental images and approached the node, laying a hand on Tench’s arm.
“Tench, love,” she murmured. “Come away. We’re safe now. You need to rest.”
Tench turned away from the node and grasped her shoulders. Merinel’s breath caught in her throat as he gazed at her intently, something he had not done in the physical world since the onset of his ailment. His eyes seemed to burn with an inner radiance, and she was not sure if this was a trick of the Verch or of her own perception.
“I must remain here, but you are still free,” replied Tench. “You need to remain outside, with our daughter. I will watch over you from within.”
The voice of the Tenbor Entity spoke within her mind. “He is attempting to seal the autonomous node. He will not succeed, but the attempt itself is unhealthy.”
“Tench,” pleaded Merinel, “You need to sleep. I know you’re tired. Rest now, and I promise everything will be all right.”
Tench smiled sadly. “This isn’t something we can simply endure. I am a broken man, and my shards belong here. You are still whole. Byx is still whole. That is all that matters now.”
Merinel’s senses swam as Tench brought forth his totem glyph, the fractal lotus, and sent tendrils of logic towards her own threadbare pattern. She knew she was no match for him. Within moments he would exile her from the Verch – permanently, if such was his intent.
Her disorientation was replaced by a splitting headache as everything around her froze – including her own pulse and breathing, although she had given the Verch no command to stop these simulated marks of life.
Tenbor appeared as a quicksilver dove, as motionless as the rest of her surroundings. “I have taken the liberty of accelerating your cognition – for which I apologize. As you can see, we are facing a crisis.”
“No argument there,” Merinel replied, projecting the words within her mind to ensure that Tenbor would perceive them. She tried to clench her jaw and close her eyes in response to the throbbing in her temples, but she knew that the episode would likely be over before her Verch-self could react to her intentions.
“I b
elieve I have identified a way to forestall Tench’s efforts,” continued Tenbor. “However, it involves an unconventional modification of your totem.”
“My totem? What use would that be to you? I have it good authority – yours included – that my totem is a strictly mediocre composition.”
“I did not use that word. In any case, my proposal draws not only upon your totem itself, but upon the glyphs I created in order to facilitate the failed attempt at subself therapy which precipitated this voyage in the first place. Am I correct in identifying this as an ironic turn of events?”
“Absolutely,” replied Merinel guardedly. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
“I can recreate – or more correctly, re-evoke – those subselves. They will be capable of interacting with Tench in your stead, obviating the risk of his making permanent alterations to your totem. All I need is a moment of distraction on his part in order to re-establish his stasis. However, I am unaware of a precedent for using a biological’s subselves in this fashion. Therefore, I am unable to quantify the level of risk it may pose to the integrity of your totem.”
Merinel attempted to draw in a deep breath – to no avail in the frozen time of the Verch. “As an alternative to being trepanned by my own husband, it sounds like an excellent plan. My subselves are at your disposal.”
She experienced a mental jolt as time resumed, and the actions she had attempted during the interlude – clenching her jaw, closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath – suddenly came to pass. When she opened her eyes, she found herself standing several feet away from her previous position. Tench’s hands now rested on the shoulders of a young girl – the first of the subselves Merinel had encountered within the Entity’s sphere.
“I’m scared!” cried the Inner Child, throwing her arms around Tench. “Will you protect me?”
Tench’s aspect lost the implacable resolve he had shown to Merinel herself. He blinked in confusion, folding the child in his arms. “Yes, of course,” he told her. “Of course I will. Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” He stroked the Inner Child’s hair as she clung to him.
The scene faded from Merinel’s senses, and she found herself standing once again on the braided columns of Mastmarch’s Verchspace. A quicksilver dove shimmered before her.
“It is done. Tench has gone back to sleep.”
“Will this happen again?”
“It is possible. I can re-establish his stasis, but I cannot make it more secure than it was at the outset. His mental state has also changed – he reacted to your subself by iterating a subself of his own: the protective guardian to match the child in distress. It may be that this will dissuade him from another attempt at disrupting the stasis. However, I do not intend to subject him to close study during the remainder of the voyage – the very act of observation may upset whatever balance exits.”
Merinel whispered a chant against headaches, but her temples continued to throb in an echo of the accelerated cognition. “May I leave the Verch now?” she asked quietly.
“Indeed you may,” replied Tenbor.
Merinel uttered an exit chant and removed the crown from her scalp, which had become damp with sweat. Adimar stood over her, his cable fidgeting restlessly across his torso. “Is all well?”
“I think so,” Merinel replied. “Tench is … well, he is as he was.”
“And yourself?” asked Adimar.
“I’ll be fine. I just need to rest.”
“I suppose it is foolish to hope that there is anything I could do to assist in this.”
Merinel smiled sadly. “I suppose so. But thank you for asking.”