Magus Star Rising
Chapter Eight

Blessed is the one who Turns, for all is forgiven.

INBORN MANIFESTO

The Pilgrimage

From the rocky outcropping high above her home, Frenati City reminded Iolyn of some kind of multi-limbed vipan. The city, with its accompanying suburbs and outlying areas, undulated and stretched in all directions. With no seeming plan, its roads and causeways split off like shoots from a mother plant, curving and twisting every which way.

Spiraling towers and minarets of the Old Style, low-slung tenements and sleek causeways contrasted with stone-cobbled streets, dome-huts, and a variety of newer architectural models judiciously ‘borrowed’ from other cultures, alien and otherwise. All thrown together in a loose grid of kaleidoscopic color and texture.

The Yharria, situated on the northern fringe, flayed outward from the city proper into a loose spiral that from this height looked like the giant tail of some immense animal. On the opposite end of the city, the river Yabu flowed murky and slow, the harbor crowded with all types of water-going vessels from all areas of the western continent. Even at this time of evening, a light gray haze visibly hung over everything, whirling and dissipating only when an airship, shuttle, or transport cleaved its smoky pallor.

And full and ripe at the horizon, the twin moons of Alpha-Seni, the Eyes of the Spirit, rose to cast a ghostly luminance.

Once again, Iolyn marveled at the role geography had played in the growth of Frenati City. The natural bowl setting, surrounded by mountains; close proximity to the river; decent climate and soil. What had once been an agri/fishing community had, over the centuries, developed into the largest, busiest and most influential city on the planet. And now, with the ongoing off-world trade and tourist business because of the Yharria, Frenati City had more than doubled its population and size.

Iolyn sighed. Her mount, restless, pawed at the stone under its hooves. The tavra, provided by her escort, seemed anxious to be going; the ubiquitous pack animal kept pulling on its bit. Iolyn, though, kept the beast under control, riding having been one of her earliest studied skills.

Yet, in a way, she understood the tavra’s impatience. Dressed in traveling jacket, trousers, and boots, Iolyn had packed minimal belongings in her saddle bag. This was to be a relatively quick trip. But it was also to be an important step in her plan. She itched to get this part over.

Still, her mind kept returning to the dinner her servants had prepared for her prior to her departure. The quaya fish had been a pleasant surprise, well-prepared and delicious. It had been a welcome respite from the strict diet of bread, fruit and vegetables she had been consuming of late, a prerequisite for the ceremony to come. But she had had to curb her concern for Behoola and her Second, Ladora. There had been an incident in the market that both servants had been involved in. Both could have come to harm.

Yet, Iolyn pretended nonchalance, playing down the incident. She had questioned Behoola and her second but then quickly dropped the matter, as painful as that had been. As the Ahnkan had told her, she must start letting go of such personal attachments, both physically and emotionally. Such a task was turning out to be more difficult than she imagined. She knew this ‘behavior’ on her part would stir talk among the servants but that, too, was part of the plan.

So far, so good, she thought. And, indeed, she had succeeded on one level. Behoola, with her mixed-race heritage, could have played a larger role in her plans. Her halfer’s point-of-view had been invaluable in Iolyn’s research. Yet Iolyn had left her out of most of it. She already suspects Kazrah. No need to bring her further into it. Besides, I don’t want anyone close to me hurt any more than is necessary. That is primary!

Above her, the mountain trail wound its way through sparse shrubs and rock, disappearing into the forests at the cloud line. A cool evening breeze ruffled the wildflowers clinging to the slope, their fragrant, heady smell enveloping Iolyn. She had wanted to stop here for the view; one more breathtaking look.

She had lived in the city all her life but some would not call that living. She, like her high-born sisters, existed within the cocooned lifestyle of her caste--almost a prisoner despite her advantages. No one ever thought twice about it. Like her mother and grandmother before her, she had accepted her lot in life for all these many cycles. Was there any other way?

What, then, had changed her mind so completely, prodding her to this radical action? The gradual realization that she was not happy? The observance of other cultures, brought about by Contact? The notion there were other ways besides the traditional Senitte, some which were better? Did she, even now, truly know herself?

The Ahnkan had sensed her unease and dissatisfaction, that being a predatory skill of his guild. Had he, as he had said, been observing her for some time or had he just approached her on some malicious whim? She could never be sure with him but a plan had been devised. One, she realized with a start, that had been gestating in her own mind for some time, almost unbeknownst to her.

Her mind flashed back to that fateful meeting in the agri- market six moons ago (was it that long? Had her life changed so radically only so recently?). Behoola had been with her as usual as well as two of her house-guards, the latter keeping a discreet but watchful distance. There had been a moment, only a moment, when she had been hidden from sight. She had recklessly (for a highborn fem) entered the shop of a blanket weaver alone. It was an impulse move, a desire to be daring.

Instantly, Kazrah had been at her side. She remembered being startled, then fascinated by the appearance of the Ahnkan. Of course, she didn’t know then he was a member of that shadow group but something about him held her attention, albeit briefly.

“You are looking for something, I think,” he had said in that whispering voice. “But it is not a blanket. I know. I have been watching you.” He pressed something into her hand then turned and walked out of the shop just as Behoola walked in.

“Mistress!” Behoola had said, worry sounding in every word. “We thought we had lost you.”

You did, Behoola, my faithful servant and friend. You did. As, I realize now, I had to lose myself.

She had said nothing about that odd encounter. It was a secret moment she had wanted to keep to herself, at least for a while.

Later that same sun, back at her home, Iolyn had read what was written on the piece of paper Kazrah had slipped her. A comm number and the words, “You can be free. I can help you.”

Even now she couldn’t remember what had driven her to call the number on her vid-phone, why she had listened and agreed and, later her own, why she had enlarged and changed her plans. It was almost as if she was being guided by some power beyond her reckoning.

Vanera? Hardly.

Initially Iolyn was just going to leave Nunek, to take the money and run, as it were. For a high-born wife to leave her husband and abscond with the household finances was an event practically unheard of in Senitte society. Any such act by a Senitte fem, either high or lowborn, would be immediately acted upon and the perpetrator punished by their clan. Conversely, the shame and humiliation brought down upon Nunek would be unbearable. She imagined him going into a self-imposed exile, the Honin-Zay estate being sold per clan protocol; snapped up almost immediately; another family living there as if nothing had happened.

However, most members of Nunek’s clan would, no doubt, have something other than exile in store for him if they caught up with him. Clan codes of honor could be harsh indeed (as had Nunek’s behavior toward her been. It was a fair exchange, surely).

Yes, it seemed like a good plan with a certain amount of justice to it. But Kazrah had convinced her otherwise. “Despite our preparations, there is always the chance he will track you down and exact his revenge,” he had said soon after he had gained her confidence. “He beats and abuses you now. Do you think he will just forget about you when you are gone? Kill him. And he will never hurt you again.”

And she had agreed. Vanera help her, she had agreed and how easy it had been! Not only to the killing but to another part of Kasbah’s machinations, one she had never even considered but, somehow, had appealed to some hidden, dark part of her.

“You can realize your fantasy of living in the Yharria,” the Ahnkan had said. “And more importantly, you will be disguised so that, even in plain sight, no one will ever know you again.”

Now that plan was more than just a dream. And if it succeeded, she would continue her existence on an entirely different level. She felt a fluttering in her stomach. Fear? Excitement? Probably a little of both.

“It is still not too late to negate the agreement.” Iolyn turned in the saddle of her mount. Vanera damn him, she thought. Does he always know what I am thinking?

The Ahnkan sat astride his own tavra a short distance away, his dark eyes focused on Iolyn. She stared back defiantly. “Must you always goad me so? You are making quite a profit from this assignment. There is an Terran saying you would do well to heed. ’Do not bite the hand that feeds you’.”

The Ahnkan nodded, a glimmer of a smile on his face. “That is true, Mistress, you have researched well. But do not think I am just a common second. I, too, possess a curious desire to know. I like to study my clients, figure out why they do what they do. You are a most interesting and unique case.”

Iolyn snorted. “Your own words belie you. Case? That is all I am to you. Nothing more.”

“Not so.” He spurred his mount closer. “You are a member of an elite caste and a successful and wealthy clan. Yet you choose to give all that up. Friends, family, fortune.”

“I will not be giving up my fortune. You have explained this to me. It is one of the reasons I have hired you.” A pause. “My friends and family are another matter.”

“Yes. Excuse my melodrama, Mistress. Your credit will exist in other forms, accessible only by you. To the outside world, though, it will seem as if your money has vanished with you. You do this for a very intriguing venture, though some would say that venture is mad and doomed in the end.”

“Yet you have assured me, despite the uniqueness of what I do, that my ‘venture’ has a very good chance of succeeding.”

Again, the smile. “Oh, yes. I have shown you the test projections and computer mappings as well as the successful results of the secret animal and sentient trials. You have seen and heard our tech-surgeons. Though you are the first high-born to undergo this procedure, excuse me, ritual, there is no doubt about its effectiveness. The metabolic accelerator will work. I will make sure of that.”

Now it was Iolyn’s turn to smile, a bitter, rueful one. “A notch upon your belt, yes? Another mission successfully completed; a test subject dutifully recruited. And perhaps you will not even go that far.” Iolyn felt a frustration she had not experienced in a long time. It flowed out of her, venting like the geyser pools at Ecron Plain, completely against protocol. “How do I know you won’t kill me here and now. I, a defenseless fem in the hands of an Ahnkan? Your kind have no qualms with that. The Ahnka has been known...”

The Ahnkan’s face hardened. Before Iolyn could take another breath, he had maneuvered his mount next to hers, reached across the distance between them and placed his hand on the horn of her saddle. His voice was cold. “Perhaps, Mistress, I do belittle you. Perhaps I cannot understand why you wish to give up your good life in such a manner as this. You are, indeed, a singular high-born, the likes of which I have never encountered before.”

“Flattery does not become you.”

“Do not misunderstand me! As I have told you before, I, or any of my colleagues, are the only ones who can help you. And help you I will. Do not presume to understand my motives or what drives me in my work. When a member of my guild takes on a contract, we do not waver from its points. I will see you through this and, yes, it is costing you much but there is another Terran quote that applies here, since you seem so fond of these sayings. ‘You are getting off cheap’.”

Iolyn grasped the reins tightly, her stomach knotting. She had forgotten about the Ahnka’s so-called ‘code-of-honor’. Apparently, her escort took that very seriously. “Remove your hand,” she whispered with a bravado she did not truly feel. “I am still your employer in this and a lady-of-the-house.”

The Ahnkan’s features softened as he released the horn and backstepped his tavra. He lowered his head in an acknowledgment of obeisance. “My apologies, Mistress. In this, I was truly out of line.” Surprisingly, no mockery hid behind his words this time. In fact, if Iolyn didn’t know better, he seemed almost abashed. A chink in his stoic armor? What had she said that upset him? Were all members of the Ahnka so in-control all the time? She must file this away for future reference. She may need all the weapons, physical or emotional, she could muster.

“You have never told me your real name,” she said, looking back toward the city. “Both of mine are known to you.”

“Kazrah will do, Mistress. My real name is none of your concern.”

Yes, she thought. That knowledge would also be a weapon.

The Ahnkan looked up the path. “We must be going. The twilight fast diminishes. Our torches will get us through the roughest parts of the higher greenwood but the lift-off point is another hour’s journey. We will break off the main trail to the communa and detour to the shuttles. Our tavras will be bedded down and cared for until our return.” He faced her, once again all business. “I will join you later. My associates will accompany you on the main shuttle. I will take another back to Frenati City.”

“Yes,” Iolyn acknowledged. “I know. But I ask you again, is it necessary to follow the Terran Weller?”

“Only at the start. I am not as sure of him as you are. Do not worry, I will be back in plenty of time.” The Ahnkan turned his mount and began to ascend.

Do not worry. Iolyn let out a long, slow breath. Her hands were trembling. She thought she had handled herself well; she had shown no fear, despite how she really felt. Still, how much longer could she keep this up? How had she come to this point? Again, she wondered at the madness behind her plans. But, as she had told the Ahnkan herself, Vanera works in mysterious ways. There was no turning back now, no matter what her dangerous employee said.

She felt a wave of expectation flow over her. She had never ridden a shuttle before. She had always traveled in the traditional way by tavra and litter or airship. This would be an interesting experience. Already my horizons expand, she thought.

And where, she wondered, squinting upward again into the moons-lit sky, is the Magus Star? It was a question all her kind had been asking for the last few moons. A pity she would miss the beginning of the festival.

She looked one last time at the city below. A frown creased her face. Once, long ago when she was very young, she and Nunek had stood at this very spot. They had been traveling on their first pilgrimage to the mountain communa as all newly married couples are required to do regardless of their religious beliefs. The spirit-cleansing they would attend was part of what the ancient Terrans called a ‘honeymoon’. They had been in love then, their interests and mindsets in close harmony despite the arranged union. Iolyn closed her eyes at the memory. Many seasons had faded into the past since that happy time. Many things had changed.

“Nunek,” she whispered. “It is too simplistic to say that you have driven me to this, though you could have stopped it. And now Vanera has pointed the way. May she help us both.”

She turned her eager tavra to the path and began to ascend.