Steven Harper - Dreamer

But it wasn’t Sejal’s fault he could do what he could do. He had done nothing wrong. And Ara had seen nothing to indicate that Sejal would abuse his power.

Ara waved the incense stick through the air. Smoke trailed after it, leaving fuzzy gray streaks in the air. Unfortunately, the universe-and the Unity-didn’t care about intentions. The fact that Sejal existed was enough to start a war. Her decision came down to simple mathematics. The death of Sejal versus the death of thousands. The death of Sejal versus the death of Ben.

People of our kind see what must be done, and we do it.

A tear trickled down Ara’s cheek. Deep down, she had known there was only one answer. She had known it from the moment the Empress had spoken those dreadful words on that dreadful day.

You are but the scalpel that does the bidding of the doctor.

Slowly, as if hypnotized, Ara set the incense down and left the Dream Temple. She went to her study and lifted a small trapdoor cunningly concealed to look like part of the wooden floor. Beneath was the door to a safe. She let the lock scan her retina, fingerprints, and voice. The locks released with a firm thump. From the safe, Ara removed a snub-nosed pistol and checked the charge. Full.

Ara knew how to use the pistol. All Children received at least basic instruction in energy weapons. When fired, this one disrupted electrochemical processes in nerve cells. At lower power, it stunned. At high power, it killed. Ara set the power as high as it would go. She put the pistol into her pocket and headed out the front door.

People of our kind see what must be done, and we do it.

Ara checked her ocular implant. It was still early morning of the day after the Post Script had landed and Kendi had taken Sejal down to the dormitory. If the pattern for new arrivals from poor backgrounds held true, Sejal had first gone shopping yesterday, probably with Kendi. Today, Sejal would register for classes and be given time to explore and settle in. Tomorrow would be his first day of formal instruction. Since it was still early, Sejal was doubtless in his room sleeping.

The walk to the monastery students’ dormitory took half an hour. Ara knew she was walking to put off the inevitable, but she couldn’t bring herself to snag a gondola or take the monorail. The time passed as if in a dream. A few early-rising students saluted her as she passed them on the swaying walkways, but Ara barely noticed.

In the dormitory foyer, she asked for and received directions to Sejal’s room. As she walked the hallway, Ara put her hand on the pistol in her pocket. No doubt there would be a public outcry. No doubt Ara would be ostracized despite interference from the Empress. At the Imperial Majesty’s insistence, Ara might retain her position as Mother Adept, but that wouldn’t stop the whispers and pointed fingers.

At least the whisperers would be alive to point.

Ara found herself at Sejal’s door. Blood pounded in her ears and her hand shook as she raised her fist to knock.

The door swung open at her touch. It hadn’t been locked, or even closed all the way. Puzzled, Ara stepped into the room. No one was inside.

The built-up tension vanished so quickly, it left Ara weak and shaky. She sat down on the unmade bed. The place was still austere and spartan, with nothing to indicate the personality of the room’s inhabitant. Not surprising. Sejal had come to the monastery with almost nothing, and he’d only been there for two days. Hardly enough time to accumulate more possessions than a few clothes. The bed hadn’t even been made up-the linens still sat neatly folded on the mattress. Odd.

At that moment the significance of the door came to her. It hadn’t been just unlocked. It had been open a crack. Hard to believe someone who had grown up in a slum would leave his door unlocked, let alone standing open. Ara fumbled for a moment, trying to remember the name of the dormitory’s computer.

“Baran,” she said, “where is Sejal Dasa?”

“Sejal Dasa is in his quarters.”

This was obviously not the case. Ara looked around. A scarlet glitter caught her eye. On Sejal’s desk in plain sight lay his ruby student’s ring. The ring carried a tracer which allowed the monastery computer system to track students and monks alike. Although it was common practice to remove the ring for privacy or other reasons, this didn’t seem to be the case. It felt wrong.

Ara did a cursory search of Sejal’s room. No clothes hung in the closet. Maybe Kendi hadn’t taken him shopping yet after all, or maybe that’s where Sejal was now. No, the shops wouldn’t open for another hour at least and the bed had clearly not been slept in last night. Something else occurred to Ara, and she searched the room again, this time more thoroughly. She came up empty.

Mother Adept Araceil Rymar sat heavily on Sejal’s bed. His flute was nowhere in the room. Ara’s hands went cold. No flute, no clothes, unmade bed, a door standing open. It all pointed to one thing.

Sejal Dasa was gone.

FROM SEJAL’S JOURNAL DAY 18, MONTH 11, COMMON YEAR 987

I’m not on Bellerophon anymore. I’m on another ship now, a nicer one than the Post Script. I wasn’t even at the monastery two days before This is stupid. My thoughts are wandering all over the place. I don’t know what to think or do or anything. I’ll start at the beginning and maybe it’ll make more sense.

Anyway. Kendi took me shopping. I’ve never had new clothes before. Most of my clothes were hand-me-downs from the neighborhood. The rest came from a secondhand store. But here, Kendi took me into real stores with real salespeople, helpful ones who didn’t try to brush us off.

“There are a bunch of people who want to talk to you,” Kendi said as we finished up. “They want to run some tests on what you can do, and they want to do it this evening. Is that okay with you?”

I nodded, still enjoying the feel of new clothes on my body. They still smelled new, and they were mine.

We took a gondola back to the monastery. It’s like riding in a giant basket on a wire, except the basket is made of metal instead of wicker. Once we got there, we dropped off my stuff and Kendi took me to another building.

Inside was a big room that reminded me of the gymnasium back at my old school, but with a polished floor and new yellow paint. A long table was set up near the far wall. Four humans and four Ched-Balaar were there, along with four other aliens. One looked like a caterpillar, one looked like a stuffed bear, one looked like a small elephant that had been hosed with red candle wax, and one looked like some kind of lizard. The humans were dressed in brown robes with gold disks around their necks.

When Kendi and I reached the table, I remembered to put my fingertips against my forehead like I was supposed to, even though I was suddenly so nervous my teeth were almost chattering. What if they sent me back to the Unity?

The oldest human in the group stepped up to the table, which was between me and him. He used a walking stick and had big purple ring on his hand. “Sejal Dasa? I’m Grandfather Adept Melthine. You can call me ‘Grandfather’ or ‘Grandfather Adept.’“

He introduced the others, including the Ched-Balaar and the other aliens, and they all sat down. The smaller aliens had chairs on the tabletop, and the Ched-Balaar sat on the floor like giant dogs. Kendi and I took chairs on the other side of the table. I still wanted to puke.

“Well, Sejal,” Grandfather Melthine began. “We want to know more about you. You have an unusual ability, and we’re fascinated.”

He sounded friendly enough and he had a nice face. I was still a little wary, though. The others didn’t say anything.