The Whole World in Shards

  * * *

  The Forene’Xab Mistforest, true to its namesake’s prediction, appeared from a distance to be an impassible twining of serpentine trunks and glossy leaves, but as they approached Merinel saw a gap in the vegetation – the opening of a path through the forest that had been kept free of growth. The trees of the forest grew in recurving loops and tangles rather than towards the sky, the better to immerse their thirsty leaves in the gentle mist that permeated the area. The source of the mist was a network of slender vines interwoven among the trees, which Merinel knew to be the waterveil, a single enormous plant that distributed the water from a river or lake over a large area to promote the growth of the forest environment in which it best thrived. The Forene’Xab waterveil, either through astonishing good luck or the specific actions of a long-forgotten ecologist, had sent a taproot into an underground reservoir.

  The mistforest’s bramble of smooth dark trees hosted a variety of arboreal creatures, including apes of potentially dangerous size and aggression, but at Tenbor’s suggestion, Adimar had set his cable to slithering back and forth across the contents of the lifter, occasionally darting or lunging at some imagined object. Snakes were the mistforest’s most successful predators, being well suited to traversing its tangled branches, and Adimar’s cable was convincing enough to deter further investigation by the forest’s inhabitants.

  The forest was alive with birdcalls and insect songs, and the limited height of the sinuous trees frequently allowed the rays of the afternoon sun to penetrate the canopy, imparting a lambent glow to the drifting mist. Merinel had visited a Verchborne recreation of the mistforest prior to the journey, and liked it well enough, but the reality of the place itself – the immediacy and completeness of sound, vision and aroma; the knowledge that it would not bend or alter in response to a chant or a glyph – was enchanting. She savored a deep breath and let her eyelids grow heavy.

  The shawl, of its own volition, rustled softly against her shoulders. Merinel sighed and opened her eyes. An image of the Tenbor dove hovered above the cargo.

  “I apologize for interrupting your moment of relaxation, but I believe this is the most opportune time to put the project into effect.”

  “Very well. Do you need me in the Verch?”

  “Yes, please. There is a final step of calibration which must take place when Tench is conscious, and as before, your presence is required to prevent him from using this time to his disadvantage.”

  Merinel wound the shawl about her head and felt its filaments nestle against her scalp. Within moments she was atop the Tenbor spire once more, regarding the unchanged tableau of Tench collapsing into the Stoic’s marble arms.

  The quicksilver dove appeared at her side. “I will now dismiss the Stoic subself. The final calibration should be accomplished in less than a minute.”

  The Stoic shimmered into nothingness, and Tench fell to the ground. Merinel stifled a gasp and remained where she was.

  Tench flickered, rather than stood, into an upright position. His gaze found Merinel. No trace remained of the weakness or tenderness he had displayed towards her subselves; his eyes burned into her with a dispassionate energy.

  “Why do you remain?” he asked. “There is nothing here for you, nothing but danger.”

  “You are here,” whispered Merinel.

  “I am the danger. You must leave – I know you will not understand. I will make it easy for you.” He approached her, his totem glyph unfurling into existence above his head.

  Merinel shrank from him as her own simple totem became visible above her. Tench took her hands is his and smiled gently as tendrils of logic from the fractal lotus reached forth towards her own glyph. “It is much better this way,” he assured her.

  Tenbor’s voice sounded within her mind. “Do not fear. The process is underway.” Merinel saw that even as Tench was linking his totem to hers, whorls of logic were emerging from the fabric of the Verch itself to intertwine with the lotus.

  Merinel shuddered as the color suddenly faded from her vision. A tingling sensation, followed by numbness, began in her fingers and crept up her arms.

  “Tenbor,” she pleaded silently, “He’s banishing me.”

  “I am aware of it,” replied Tenbor. “I am working as quickly as I can.” Merinel saw that the lotus was resisting Tenbor’s modifications – for each graceful arc that merged into the glyph, two more were repulsed, unraveling into nothingness amid acrid puffs of smoke.

  Merinel was no longer aware of her skin, nor of the weight of her body. Her field of vision began to close in on Tench’s gentle smile. “I’m losing him,” she despaired.

  “I will remove you from danger.”

  Merinel staggered as her sensorium surged back to completeness, and found herself standing several feet away from Tench. She realized that it was Tenbor, and not her husband, who had spoken. Standing before Tench in Merinel’s stead was the impossibly beautiful Sensualist.

  The Sensualist laughed – a crystalline trill, a heart-stopping curve of pearly teeth and coral lips. She twined a lock of Tench’s hair about her finger. “Together at last,” she breathed. “I hope your ample rest has replenished your stamina.”

  Tench’s face darkened with revulsion. He pushed her away gracelessly. “Begone. I want nothing of you.”

  “Tenbor,” Merinel murmured urgently.

  The Sensualist, undeterred, approached Tench again with swaying hips, draping her arms around his neck. “I want a great deal,” she whispered. “So would you, if you were whole.”

  Tench gripped her shoulders, but his strength faltered, making the gesture seem more like a caress. He flinched as the Sensualist nuzzled the line of his jaw, brushing her lips against his earlobe.

  “Tenbor,” repeated Merinel, “This is a bad idea.”

  “You shall have no hold on me,” growled Tench. “I will not let you make me into a beast.” The center of the fractal lotus began to pulse with malignant energy.

  “Tenbor!” screamed Merinel. “He’ll kill himself!”

  The Sensualist yelped, her enchanting eyes wide with surprise, and vanished. Colombe appeared in her place, smiling as serenely as she had when Merinel first met her.

  “Well done, my love,” Colombe said. “I am ready now. Send me away.”

  “Tenbor!” hissed Merinel. “What’s going on? What’s Colombe doing here?”

  “Tench perceives her as you,” replied the dove’s voice. “This is why she addressed him as ‘my love,’ which I imagine caused you come concern.”

  “No, it didn’t,” lied Merinel. “Is this your project?”

  “Indeed. Tench will endeavor to banish the Colombe subself, laboring under the illusion that she is you. Colombe’s totem glyph, linked as it is to my own logic, is not subject to such manipulation. Tench’s efforts will instead constitute a new and more sustainable form of stasis.”

  The fractal lotus sent branches of logic towards Colombe’s totem, and as they connected, Tench and Colombe slowed into immobility, beatific smiles on each of their faces.

  Merinel sank to the ground. Her arms and legs still tingled, and her perception of color was still fluid, allowing the hues of objects around her to shift and flow into each other. “Are we done here?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  The Verch peeled away from her senses, and she blinked as she readjusted to ordinary concrete vision. Adimar’s cable, she noted with concern, was in the final stages of throttling an enormous python while stifling its gaping jaws with a large knot.

  “Were we attacked?”

  “It may have been an attempt to mate,” shrugged Adimar. “Equally objectionable, under the circumstances.” He flicked his wrist, and the motion accelerated through the cable, flinging the serpent into the surrounding branches. “How is Tench?”

  “Quite well, in fact,” sighed Merinel. Happier than I have seen him in years, as he works to expunge me from his life forev
er. Adimar did not inquire further.