Chapter Six
The Utopia
Truth sat on the floor and watched as the other prisoner made another loop around the bare cell across from him. Two of his long steps to the back, five past the shapeless folded bunk to the tamper-proofed sink, two more back to the front of the cell and then five back to that first rounded corner by the door. He’d been pacing it incessantly, hands clasped behind his back, stalking the edges with deliberate, controlled steps as though looking for a way out. There wouldn’t be one, of course; the force field would stop them from leaving even if those ridiculous iron bars wouldn’t, and there were prominent teleportation nullifying marks cast into the front of each cell door. They weren’t going anywhere. He had a look of intense concentration on his face, though, and Truth suspected he might actually be thinking, the pacing giving him an outlet for his apparent frustration.
Healing someone always left a slight sympathetic link between you, for a time. He was fairly certain that tiny itching desire to get up, go, move, time is running out in the back of his mind wasn’t actually his, judging by the scene he was watching. He kept wondering why the man had touched the force field, though – had he known it would hurt him? He had seemed surprised. Two more loops around the cell in front of him and he gave up and asked.
“If I can ask – why did you touch the force field?”
The man didn’t seem to hear him, continuing his measured steps around and around. They faltered, after a moment, and he looked up as if just remembering Truth was there. He stared blankly, and an uncomfortably long period of time passed.
He finally spoke, haltingly. “It… had – an unusual aetheric resonance. I… had not seen the like before.”
“It didn’t occur to you it could hurt you?” The man tilted his head, pondering the words before replying.
“My flesh is still more… vulnerable than my bones.” He blinked slowly, the words coming with an effort. Perhaps he was more out of it than Truth had thought. “But,” he continued, “Having experienced it now, it is no longer a threat. My safeguards will have adjusted.”
He reached out towards the force field as he spoke, with the same hand, Truth’s eyes widening in dismay that he would touch it AGAIN– but this time, the crackles and sparking were from some magic in the man’s skin repelling the field as he dragged his fingers across it. Tiny glowing motes flew out into the air around his hand. “You see?” He pressed against it, harder, and the field itself impossibly began to fizz and warp, showering more sparks on the floor. Tiny burn marks across the floor around the other man proved that Truth wasn’t imagining it.
“I could walk through it now,” his fellow prisoner said, “if I desired it.” He blinked again, seeming to be falling back into the sleepy stupor he had briefly broken out of. “It would not be worth it, I think.” He gestured at the area around them, saying, “This – it is like an island. Outside is dark, and frozen; nearly devoid of aether – I would likely not survive for long enough to travel elsewhere…” He stopped, head bowed in thought.
“In the middle of a vast emptiness, I can sense nowhere else to go.”
“Well, we are on a spaceship.”
“That term has no meaning to me.” He paused, staring at Truth in puzzlement, then continued, “Your mental images are- also confusing.”
“How do you not know what a spaceship is?”
Truth was starting to be very concerned about this man’s mental state – he seemed to be having a lot more difficulty than could be attributed to merely disorientation. He reached for that tiny link in the back of his head. He might not be mentally talented himself, but he was a healer; he knew how to ease tiredness and boost cognitive function.
“Oh,” the man said. “Oh,” he said again, straightening in relief. He shook himself, a quick shiver as if shaking off cobwebs, as he blinked rapidly. Some of the tension in his face eased, and he turned to face Truth fully.
“Thank you,” he said, notes of gratitude ringing clear in his voice. “That is much, much better. As for your question… I am uncertain. My brother and I,” he said, “We were asleep… and before that… before that I had been broken, and he came for me.”
“I think… I think I might have hurt him.” There was a trace of horror in his voice at the realization. He paused again, blinking tiredly. “I almost wish I hadn’t woken up.”
“Why?”
The man shook his head, offering no answer. Truth was genuinely curious what had happened that he would call himself ‘broken’, that had resulted in him only just now realizing he might have hurt his brother. Was it something he could heal? Even if it wasn’t, could he help, beyond just giving the man a boost?
“Is it simple exhaustion? Would a nap help?”
“No. It would be pointless. I do not need sleep, so it would not ease this fatigue, and before I woke my mind was too… too thick, too muddled for dreams.”
He looked up, gazing through the ceiling as though it wasn’t there towards that vast emptiness he’d described. “Better to simply stay awake rather than face waking into this nightmare again. Or worse,” he added quietly, “losing control again. I will not let that happen.”
“Oh,” Truth said, wondering if perhaps the man needed to focus his mental resources on staying sane instead of chatting-
“No. Please, continue.” He looked back down at Truth, brow knitting over those pale eyes as he sensed that thought, saying urgently, “Your voice… is another strand of reality for me to hold on to. By myself it was much more difficult.”
Oh. In that case… “Well, if talking helps, do you want to tell me about it?” The man gestured voicelessly, silently indicating he had no words for what had happened to him. He seemed to want to try, though, repeatedly opening his mouth and then thinking better of whatever he was about to say, so Truth drew his knees up and rested his head on his arms to listen. The man was still for a moment, a dark figure against the cold metal of the walls, head bowed, hair trailing on the floor behind him.
“I remember…” he started, voice barely audible. “It was sudden. I remember feeling such fury; that I was broken, and would never again be whole; that the core of who I was had been forcibly taken from me.” He made a tearing gesture, as though something had been ripped from his chest.
“Without a charge to protect, without a duty, the compulsions upon me tore me in two. Nothing of the like had ever happened before, and then all of us, at the same time… That shock alone I could have withstood, I think, but then my daughter stepped up and took the killing blow meant for me… and I lost my temper.” He shook his head, blinking back what Truth thought might be tears, but they etched golden tracery down his cheekbones anyway.
“I remember the anger, but I no longer feel it. Now… now I am simply tired.”
Despair. That was despair Truth heard in those words. From anger to despair, and no one to talk to… He said, softly, “I’m sorry to hear about your daughter. That’s not something anyone should have to go through.” He stayed silent for a moment, head bowed in respect for that sacrifice.
He continued slowly, thinking out loud, “If not having a – a duty was the problem, couldn’t you find something else to protect, even for just a little bit?”
“I do not believe a simple blessing of protection on something else could have replaced the true keystone mark after its destruction, as it would not have repaired what had been ripped apart in the process. Still, it simply did not occur to me then…” He paused. “Perhaps it would have been different if I had tried it. Perhaps not. The empire would still have fallen, and I would still have had to fight for my life, bleeding out the aether that kept me whole all the while.”
The man was silent for a moment himself. “It was a very long time before my brother found me, and the damage had only spread further by then.”
Listening, it occurred to Truth that this man must be very, very old. As far as he was aware, there hadn’t even been any empires for hundreds of years before the great war. There certainly hadn’t been any since then. The man blinked at him, recognizing some sense of the passage of time in the thought, then asked, wiping back the golden streaks, “Has it truly been that long?”
Truth shook his head. He couldn’t say. History before the war was sketchy at best, and he was no expert. Even if his fellow prisoner were to tell him the name of the fallen empire, he probably wouldn’t recognize it. The man’s face fell at that, angular features creasing in sorrow. He looked back up after a moment, examining Truth intently again.
“Nadir,” he said, after he decided whatever he saw was satisfactory. “In your language, I would be Nadir. We have conversed, now. It is not… not acceptable for me to know all your names, and you none of mine.” He nodded sharply, decisively, hair swaying with the motion, and sat on the floor, crossing those long legs and resting his hands on his thighs.
“I have told you what I remember of my own disaster. Tell me of yours, now.”
Truth blinked, startled. “Can’t you see it in my head with everything else?”
Nadir shook his head, gently. “My talent may have been for mindreading before I was reforged, but it functions differently, now. I have… less control, and more at the same time. Surface thoughts, of course, those are always there, images and ideas skimming the edge of your mind. Impossible to completely block, at this range. That is no different. But rather than search through all that you are… significant events… jump out at me from the echoes of your life.” He gestured vaguely, trying to clarify what he meant.
“Defining choices.” He thought a moment, and continued, “Moments of import.”
“Sins and crimes, revelations and sacrifices.” He nodded, satisfied with the examples. “Whatever happened to bring you here, is buried strongly underneath the other things I sense from you.”
This was absolutely fascinating; it had never occurred to Truth that you could manipulate the way talents themselves worked, using the very magic they were based in. “What things are those?” he asked, curious.
Nadir closed his eyes, tipping his head back slightly as though scenting the air. “An oath, sworn under duress, but kept all the same. The heat in the air from the morning sun on the thousands of people around you also swearing the same oath, and yet, such a different one. A feathered mask in the mirror, hiding a face you don’t know yet. The fear of discovery as you take it off. Your twin faces you, identical in all respects, or so you thought then… A song, echoed on the breeze, two voices raised in perfect harmony one last time.”
He tipped his head back again, considering. “The oath kept is the strongest impression I get from you, overwhelming almost everything else. I could look deeper, search for more, but that would require letting go of myself to read you, and I don’t dare. Not now.” He didn’t move, merely looked at Truth out of the corner of his eyes. “However, I scent no wrongdoing on you, or we would not be speaking. And I have always done my best not to pry into the lives of those who are innocent of crimes in any case.”
Interesting. “Does… does crime… smell different?”
“It does,” he said, nodding. “Certain events just smell… wrong. Rape.” Truth shuddered. “Murder. Theft.” He eyed Truth again. “Oathbreaking. They are all slightly different, and often people just… radiate that scent so strongly I don’t even need to read them to know they have committed those crimes.”
“Like a shark scenting blood in the water,” Truth said.
“Yes,” Nadir said. “Exactly like that.” He smiled faintly, dangerously, and for the first time Truth saw the edges of what could only be described as shark teeth behind those thin lips. That was unexpected. And mildly disturbing.
It didn’t take long for him to tell Nadir what had happened at the market – on mentioning seeing the man there, he’d confirmed that yes, that had been him. He had literally just woken and blindly sought out the nearest high concentration of aether to try and recover some semblance of cognizance and stability. He would not have been coherent had they approached him, then. Thinking back, Truth was pretty sure Boots had been trying to encourage him to leave the gate by pointing Nadir out, though it hadn’t worked.
“I wish I understood what happened,” Truth said, running his hand through his hair again. “It just doesn’t make any sense. Why would Boots betray us now, of all times? The legalization of magic is so close to passing both the senate and the planetary assembly that you can practically taste it.” He sighed. “And not just that – they came in through the main entrance, straight through sunside, with sunshields and skimmers and rock cutters and everything else they might need. They had to have been planning it for weeks, and I didn’t hear anything.”
Nadir, his eyes closed as he listened, said, “Would you have expected to hear something?”
“Admittedly, I am – I was part of the medical corps, and we’re not always involved in raids, but usually we at least hear about these things. If they were keeping it secret even from officers, I have to wonder if they suspected something… But if Boots had told them about me from the start they would’ve moved to discharge me immediately.” He rubbed his face tiredly, defeated. “I just… don’t get it. And I can’t help feeling like I need to warn somebody about all of it.”
He shook his head. “Well, whatever happened, it’s all over now. No more secrets, nothing left to hide. I feel… lighter, just thinking about it. Relieved.”
Nadir’s head lifted at that, eyes opening, alert again. “You still have people to protect, do you not? Names and places.”
“Well, yes,” Truth admitted, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the deck, each making a satisfyingly solid sound. How to describe it? “But, I don’t have to pretend to be different people any more, or to like one thing as one of my selves and not as the other. I don’t have to worry about what my superiors or fellow market councilors might think if I said a particular thing, or if wearing something would raise suspicion. I never have to imitate that horrible flat accent again. Hell, I could finally tell the rest of my family that I’m talented without worrying they’d get in trouble for knowing when I was caught. I can just… be myself again. Even if I’m being that self in prison.” Thinking about his family, he wondered how they’d taken the news. His aunt, especially.
Nadir nodded, eyes closing again in understanding. “A major source of internal conflict has been removed from you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Truth looked up excitedly and pointed a finger in realization. “Exactly that. There’s… other things to worry about now, but none of them seem as… overwhelming. Mostly.”
“Mostly?” The other man tilted his head in concern.
“Like… like I know at some point they’re going to start experimenting on me.” It was inevitable, given how few healers they captured. “The general assumption with healing talented is that they’ll heal themselves, given the chance… It won’t be pleasant.”
He hesitated, but the man had already said he considered it a wrong, so he continued, “And… and it’s a prison. You hear things about, abuse, and… rape.” He’d always been terrified of that. It was his worst fear, since before he’d grown old enough to even really understand what it meant.
Nadir’s eyes opened a fraction at the word, pale slits in a dark shadow suddenly full of menace. “I would not permit it. They can confine me, but they cannot contain me. Should it be necessary, I will break these chambers, and all their petty restriction charms. That, at least, I can promise you.”
Petty? These cells were equipped with the very latest in modern anti-magical charms. Then again, considering magic was generally banned, it wasn’t as if there was real research on the subject. You only had to look at those useless iron bars to see that. Still, that was not something he’d expected to hear. Even if it was an empty offer – and he suspected it might not be, after the force field demonstration – his pounding heartbeat slowed a little. He looked down, not wanting to see what expression might be on the other man’s face, pity or sympathy or whatever it was he was feeling from that tiny link. He’d been doing a good job remaining calm in the face of everything, but that, he thought that might break him.
He needed a distraction. “Would you like to hear a story?” he asked, abruptly. “It would give me something to keep talking about, at least for a while, and then you don’t need to think about conversation.”
“I will listen,” Nadir said. Good enough, he’d take that as a yes.
“Okay, I- I’ll tell you my favorite one. It’s an old magic fairytale that people don’t tell publicly anymore, but as a little kid I really loved it.”
He took a deep breath, as if he was going to sing instead of speak, and cast his mind back to those quiet evenings when their father would tell his daughters stories about things that could be or might have been or maybe someday would be.
“In a magical land far away,” he began, “there stood a mighty castle.”
Inside the castle, there was a King, and a Queen, and all their many children and courtiers and servants. And inside the castle, there was a library, and a great hall, and a thousand thousand rooms.
And inside the great hall, there was a fireplace.
And inside the fireplace there was a fire. But not any ordinary fire.
No, this was a magical fire. This fire, you see, had a mind of its own. In the winter, it watched the King and the Queen and all their many courtiers and children dancing to its warmth. In the summer, it dimmed its flames and listened as the King and the Queen and the courtiers told their children of many fascinating adventures and wonderful places-
“Wait,” said Nadir, raising a hand in warning. “I hear footsteps approaching us.”
Truth turned his head, listening. He couldn’t hear anything beyond the faint hum of the ventilation. How could the man possibly hear footsteps through yards and yards of steel and mechanical systems? Then again, he could also apparently smell wrongdoing. Inhuman hearing wasn’t any stranger than that. But… already? Admittedly, he didn’t know the sleep cycle on this ship, but he’d have thought they’d be left alone for more than a few hours. He sighed.
“I guess I can tell you the story later, then, if you’re still interested.”
Nadir had politely ignored his brief flash of skepticism, and acknowledged this with a shallow nod of his head and a faint smile. “I feel strong enough now, mentally, to go without your aid for a time should they separate us. It is still very much appreciated, and I am certain the story will be no less interesting for the wait.”
The two men fell silent, tensely waiting for whatever their unwelcome visitors would bring.
