Tuning the Symphony (Dissolution Cycle) Page 4

  - Inter-species relationships have been contentious since the species initially met in the Nether. From the first time an adventurous Methiemum flirted with an Etanela or a Festuour, these relationships have occurred. The xenophobic of the ten species deride such activities, though the majority are neutral. Few encourage such romantic ties even in the Nether, though it has more active long-lasting inter-species relationships than all ten homeworlds combined. On the worlds, a more conservative philosophy is the norm.

  Excerpt from “A Dissertation on the Ten Species, Book I: Overview”

  Rilan trudged up the spiral steps in the House of Communication, grumbling. Because of their connection with the air, some egotistical idiot many cycles in the past decided the physical House would be second in height to only the Spire itself. The House of Strength had it right, with half their headquarters at ground level, spread out in a vast circle. Even the House of Healing was only a few stories tall, connecting their members to the Imperium’s medical research center.

  But no, this had to be the tallest house and the arrogant ass that lived on the top floor was the one she was going to see. The climb only stoked her anger.

  She paused for breath, leaning back on the carved balustrade dividing the top floor from a plunge to the ground floor far below. A hallway stretched out in front of her, wood and stone panels lit by lamps containing ever-glowing fires courtesy of the House of Power. The window at the end of the hall gave little light this late at night.

  Rilan trudged down the hall, still muttering under her breath. If she wasn’t so concerned over her former philosophy professor’s absence at her testing, she might have just stewed at home.

  She patted her pouch, with the note still in it. No, I would have come anyway. At least be truthful to myself.

  Rilan knocked on Origon’s door. Why he insisted on this particular apartment was beyond her. It was a waste of time just to run up and down the flights. She waited.

  “Come on, Origon,” she said to the door. There was a small card affixed in the middle with the majus’ name, but aside from that, no decoration. “You have a lot of explaining to do, and I know you’re at home.” She was leaning into another knock when the door opened like a cork from a bottle.

  Rilan nearly fell, but turned it into a stumble, right into his skinny arms. Origon looked terrible. His crest was drooping, feathery hair languid. There were circles under his large dark eyes, and his liverspotted Kirian skin looked more pale and wrinkled than usual. Even his feathery moustaches drooped, beneath the edge of his chin. The bright orange fabric of his robe only made him look worse.

  Rilan resisted showing sympathy. “Why weren’t you there? What was that note about?” She could see him pull himself together, pasting a false smile above the wisps of his feathery beard.

  “I was knowing you would pass, wasn’t I? No need to be there just to be distracting you.” Origon paused. “You did pass, yes?”

  “I very nearly didn’t, thanks to you.” She pushed at his chest and he stepped back, closing the door behind her with one foot. “You would have had to call Vethis majus, otherwise. Maybe I should take the councilors’ advice and keep away from you.” She saw the flash of irritation that crossed his face before he hid it. The Council and he were never on the best terms.

  “Your father wasn’t there either.” He retreated as she stalked forward.

  “My father is an indigent craftsman in the middle of the poorest city on Methiem. He flatly refused to ‘embarrass’ me by coming to the ‘rich’ Imperium, despite the fact I had special permission to create a portal directly to his house instead of using the portal ground. He’s stubborn as a stone and I promised I would visit him as soon as I got my first vacation. What’s your excuse?”

  He was stalling. There was something else.

  “I—” There was only a half second of pause before he answered, but she knew him well enough to catch it. “It is really not to be important—”

  “Not buying it.” Rilan kept moving forward, pushing Origon backward with the tip of one finger. He stumbled over a low yellow ottoman.

  “The councilors were not wanting me there anyway—”

  “I’ll believe that, except maybe for Councilor Feldo.” Thoughts of the artifact Origon contributed to flashed through her mind. “But when has the Council’s displeasure ever kept you from doing exactly what you wanted?”

  Origon’s back hit the wall of his apartment and he sagged against it, face crumpling. Rilan’s anger disappeared in a flash. Was that a tear?

  “My brother…he is…I was just receiving the news before your test. I could not…”

  She had never seen Origon so defenseless. She took the last step toward him and enfolded his larger frame. He buried his head in her shoulder.

  Well, this wasn’t how she expected to celebrate her graduation from apprentice to majus. She gently stroked the tiny gray feathers that made up the Kirian’s hair. She loved the way pink and blue tufts fluttered in and out of sight as his crest responded to her touch. But his face was still buried against her best shirt.

  “Want to tell me about it?” she ventured. She was, after all, the one training to be a psychologist. Although she didn’t think her first real case would be comforting a man more than twenty cycles her senior, both her professor and her close friend.

  Origon straightened, running a long finger along his cheek. She was always surprised he didn’t poke himself in the eye with his claw-like fingernails. “I am sorry to be missing your testing, Rilan,” he said, more contrite than she had ever heard. “Sit. I have something to ask.”

  She took a seat on the yellow couch, matching the ottoman he had tripped over. Origon sat beside her, straightening his garish robe’s sleeves and length to cover ankles and wrists. It was a cultural thing for the Kirians, for the males to hide their legs and arms. She still didn’t understand why, as the females showed so much skin. Origon had told her it wasn’t anything religious. Just one of those customs that didn’t translate well between species.

  Origon picked up a little statue from a side table; a token from one of his many travels among the ten homeworlds. He idly fondled it, running fingers along the length. It was some animal she didn’t recognize. His whole apartment was filled with knick-knacks, and as little time as he spent here, they were always covered with a layer of dust.

  He didn’t look at her as he spoke. “I will be having to leave tomorrow morning. It is another reason I could not be attending your testing.” He waved a hand to where a small bag was half-full of clothes in a corner. “I must be discovering what happened.”

  “What did happen?” Rilan asked. She folded her hands in her lap. At least that explained the note. “What about your brother?”

  Origon’s face went through permutations of sadness, then straightened, becoming almost haughty. His hair slicked back to a neutral position. That was the man she knew.

  “He is dead.”

  Origon didn’t talk about his family much. Rilan knew he had the one brother, though both his parents had gone back to the Great Wheel of life and death before she met him.

  “Oh. I’m so sorry,” she said. She could only think how inconvenient a time it was for this to happen. She buried the thought.

  It’s a normal reaction to a message of grief. Stop focusing on yourself and help him.

  “Will you be going back home to Kiria to handle his affairs?”

  Origon, still fiddling with the carving, looked up at that. “No, I am going to Festuour.”

  “Festuour?” She had never been to the furry aliens’ home world, though of all the homeworlds, it was the friendliest with her own. “What’s there?”

  “His body, so I am told.”

  Now she was confused. “He is not a majus, is he?”

  “No. I am the only one of all my relations having that ability. And doubly fortunate in being able to hear the Symphony of two houses.”

  Rilan waved the fact away. Origon never grew tired of mentioning
that he was a member of both the Houses of Communication and Power. “What business did he have on Festuour?”

  “That I do not know.” Origon’s crest spiked and separated, the Nether translating it as confusion. “The communication was sent to me through a portal from a little city on Festuour being called Martflen.”

  “Never heard of it.” But that wasn’t very odd. She had only ever been on Methiem—her homeworld—and in the Nether, as it was the hub of communications between the homeworlds, and the headquarters of the maji.

  “Nor I.” That was stranger. Origon knew just about every nook and cranny of all ten homeworlds. His face showed pain for an instant, and Rilan knew his brother’s death was eating at him far more than he would show. The emotions she saw when she arrived were likely the most she would get. It wasn’t good for him to suppress that emotion, but he would never even admit he was doing it.

  “Are you knowing what my brother did?” Rilan shook her head. “He was a lawman on Kiria—and very good at it. The last communication I was getting from him mentioned a far reaching case he had started, but gave no information except that someone had been killed.”

  “And Festuour?”

  Origon shook his head, feathery hair flattening in negation. “That is something I will be discovering.”

  Rilan sighed. She had hoped they could spend more time together. “I’ll let you get back to packing,” she said, rising, then paused, searching his face. “When will I see you again?”

  Origon’s crest suddenly fluttered in agitation, and he put the little carving down, but continued to move his fingers restlessly. “That is to be the other part I wanted to talk with you about.”

  Rilan stood this time, turned to face him as he sat on the couch. “What is that?”

  “Come with me tomorrow.”

  “To Festuour?”

  “Yes.” Origon leaned forward, pleading, his words coming out in a rush. “And after I am finishing this ancestor’s cursed business with my brother, stay with me. Travel with me. We will be seeing all the homeworlds and their cultures, disagreements, religions, and secrets. Share it with me.” He looked away. “I had meant to ask before, and then at your test, but then…” he trailed off.

  “But—Origon.” Rilan was speechless for a moment. “What about everything here?” Her hands took in not just the apartment, but the Nether itself. “I am only a majus as of today. I have to…”

  “Have to what? Be finding a profession to please the people of the Great Assembly? Scraping your nose on the ground before the Council? Solving petty problems?”

  The speaker’s words about skirting the rules came back to her. “The Council is there for a reason,” she answered, her voice hotter than she meant. “It directs the maji how to best help all of us.”

  Origon made a rude noise. “They are being a bunch of blowhards. What better time to see the universe? Come with me.”

  “This isn’t an idle jaunt. Your own brother was killed!” Rilan stepped forward and poked him in the chest again. The man was still in denial.

  “Well, yes.” She caught another flash of sadness, but Origon was fast hiding it, becoming his usual blustery self. She knew if he didn’t let it out now, it would come out later.

  “Let us adventure through the jungles of Festuour. Even if I am not discovering what happened, it will be a time of solitude, and reflection.”

  “Solitude? With me in tow?” “Reflection, then.”

  “You’re impossible.” But now the thought nagged at her. What would she do here? Wait until Vethis tested up to antagonize her? Find some psychologist to work with, using the House of Healing to diagnose petty issues in ten different species? Deal with stares from those who knew about her and Origon? She hadn’t thought news of their relationship had spread that far. Vethis knew, of course, because all through university he made it his business to know anything that might be damaging to her image. Maybe he had spread it around in hopes of sabotaging her test.

  And if she hung around the Nether, when would she get to see the homeworlds like she wanted?

  “You are wanting to. I can tell.”

  “I…do.” The words felt almost dragged from her, yet she found they were true. “But I have responsibilities here. And your brother…”

  “I will be welcoming the help, and your responsibilities can wait for a time, can they not?”

  “Well…yes.”

  “Do this for me. Come with me this one time. I will show you all I have lectured about in your classes, all I have told you of when we met alone. See if this is what you are wanting to do with your life.” He paused, watching his hands for a moment before looking up at her. “With our lives.” Once again, he looked vulnerable. “You will be…helping me past this period. And if you find it is not to your tastes, then come back here and find another path.”

  Rilan searched Origon’s face, but she could feel the certainty bubbling up within her. Maybe she could help distract him, at least for the moment. Slowly, she leaned forward, lips close to his, and turned her head so she didn’t bump his long nose.

  They kissed, and Rilan pushed him back into the horrible yellow couch.

  Some time later, Origon set the ottoman back aright, while Rilan picked up several of his little knick-knacks that had been knocked off.

  “I am assuming that was a ‘yes?’” Origon didn’t take his eyes from a small rip in the hem of the ottoman.

  “I only need to get a few things from my apartment—or Majus Meyta’s apartment, rather.” She adjusted a painting of a distinguished Kirian hanging above an ornamental side table. “What time is it, anyway?”

  Origon squinted through to his kitchen, which had a small outside window—a testament to his ability to complain until he got what he wanted. He ran long fingers down his drooping moustaches. “It is looking to be around second lightening.”

  Rilan groaned. “I need some sleep, especially if we’ll be up at fifth or sixth lightening.”

  Origon raised a feathery eyebrow, like an angular caterpillar over his eye. “There is my bedroom. You do not want to be disturbing your mentor at this hour.”

  “I suppose not.” And it wasn’t like the bed was any different than the… She looked at the couch. And the floor. And ottoman. Then her glance caught a picture of Origon and another Kirian—she assumed his brother—on the mantle, and she cringed.

  “Really, are you sure? I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean to take advantage of you right after…” She trailed off.

  Origon actually laughed. It was a welcome sound. “I will be letting you know the first time you are taking advantage of me.” His face grew serious. “Please. Come be with me for a little while longer. I will be welcoming the company. It is…helping while I cannot do anything else.”

  She followed Origon to his bedroom.

  Rilan stretched, and looked out the window beside the bed. She swished her legs under the covers. Had she known he had silk sheets, she would have tried this earlier. Origon was up already, puttering in his washroom. He did seem to be better for having her sleep—and they did actually sleep this time—next to him. She listened to sounds of running water and questioned whether there was anything else that would have helped Origon deal with his grief in a better way. He was a complex man. Finally, she gave up the thought. Time would tell.

  Without us, there could be no Great Assembly of Species, Speaker Karendi had said. Was she doing the right thing, going with him? What would her mentor say when she packed a few changes of clothes and left the apartment empty until she and Origon returned? When would that be? Days? Weeks? Yes, she deserved a vacation after studying for so long. She had finished both her testing and her graduation from university less than a ten-day apart. Not many did that. Yes, she could afford time off before transitioning to the life of a majus, and an apprentice psychologist. She already had recommendations to several places that might accept her. Would the lost time hurt her? Probably not. But on the other hand, was she just doing this to skirt t
he rules, like the speaker had said?

  “Are you ready?” Origon poked his head out of the washroom.

  “Just a moment,” she answered, rolling out of his bed and pushing her rambling thoughts to the back of her mind.

  They went out for breakfast. She strolled next to Origon, matching his long strides with quicker steps. It was a clear day in the Nether, bright and warm, with the light cascading down on them from the great walls. She looked across their length to where they met above the palace and Great Assembly, like some giant had shoved two slabs of translucent marble together. The walls, the same crystal substance as the columns, disappeared overhead, out of the range of her vision. Just as someday she would visit all ten homeworlds, someday she would travel to the top of the Nether. There were stories of course, but no one had ever brought back proof of what was up there, higher even than the birds and beasts flew. She had to make time to do those things. Otherwise she would be pinned to one place for the rest of her life.

  “You are sure about this?” Origon brought her focus down to the ground. The area around the Spire of the Maji and between the houses of the maji encircling it was the largest continuous green plot in the Imperium. It was decorated with trees and bushes and tended by an army of groundskeepers. Specially trained birds and beasts prowled its circumference, never leaving the influence of the maji. It was far different from the warren of buildings that made up the rest of the Imperium.

  “I’m surer by the minute,” she answered. She pushed down a twinge of panic. It was just the feeling of worms in her belly because she was doing something new.

  And totally insane.

  “Is your brother in Martflen?” She redirected her thoughts.

  “His body is, though I am not knowing how he was caught in such a place, especially to inconvenience me with having to travel there and finish his business.” She snuck a glance at his face, but his expression—and crest—was carefully controlled. She wouldn’t see another display like last night.