Eileen Wilks - Ritual Magic

Lily listened with half an ear as she headed for the kitchen. He wasn’t saying anything that was new to her, though the others probably hadn’t heard it in detail. Debrett’s cousins, for example, were in bad shape, though not comatose like their parents. The one in Belize was being flown back here. The other was being treated in Denver. But they’d found more, so many more—Debrett’s coach in high school, who’d moved to Albuquerque and had thought he was going crazy; people he’d served with in the Marines; friends from college and from church. Many of them were only slightly affected, like the ones at the pipe company, but some were more seriously messed up.

Two of the victims had died. Barbara Lennox had slid from a coma into death; records showed she’d been Debrett’s first grade teacher. And a man in San Francisco who’d gone to grade school with Debrett had been killed in an auto accident right about the time someone slit Debrett’s throat. He’d suddenly and inexplicably lost control of the car. Not drunk, not on drugs, no obvious medical condition. Lily figured he’d suddenly forgotten how to drive.

In the kitchen, Toby was turning the crank on a gadget that peeled, cored, and sliced apples. Julia stood at the restaurant-style range stirring something under Carl’s supervision. She flashed Lily a quick smile. Lily filled two heavy mugs with coffee, knowing Rule would want one, too. She’d rewrapped her wrist before they left, and it didn’t hurt at all to carry a mug in that hand. Maybe her left hand wouldn’t be out of commission too much longer.

She got back just as the others were seating themselves at the big table. Isen had a pad and pen ready. One of his more unexpected skills was shorthand.

Rule took the mug with a smile. Lily sat and pulled out her own notebook. Isen’s notes would be more complete, but she still wanted her own.

Karonski was finishing his summary about the victims. “Those affected the worst seem to be the ones who either knew Alan Debrett as kids or who had a strong emotional connection, like his aunt and uncle, though there are exceptions, like the former teacher who died early this morning. We don’t yet know if there was another, deeper connection between her and Debrett, or if her physical frailty—”

Physical condition means little, Sam informed them. It was amazing how well a voice that was no more than iced thought could cut off normal conversation. This is one of the two subjects I need to introduce. Your supposition that the chief predictors of major damage are an early connection to Debrett or a deep emotional connection is roughly correct. I will state this with more accuracy, although your terms do not allow real precision. The level of damage depends upon the way the excised memories were woven into subsequent memories and the individual’s sense of self. A visual metaphor may be helpful. Imagine an elaborate house of cards with many levels. Some cards may be removed, particularly in upper levels, with little damage to the overall structure. Remove cards in the middle or lower levels, and some or all of the levels above the point of excision collapse, and the lower structure may be in turn damaged by the falling cards, creating instabilities that do not immediately reveal themselves. Remove foundational cards, and the entire structure collapses.

Lily spoke slowly, keeping her voice down so she wouldn’t be heard in the kitchen. “The part about how removing cards from a lower level makes the top levels crash and damages the lower structure . . . that’s my mother.”

In a lamentably imprecise way, yes. The memories she lost were substantial, emotionally charged, and were formed at a time when she was building her understanding of identity, community, and sovereignty. At the moment of injury, her mind instinctively reverted to its most stable configuration prior to the excision. It was not, however, truly stable; such extensive collapse had damaged the underlying structure. I reinforced certain foundational structures and performed other alterations that do not fit the card house metaphor.

So Julia was a stable twelve-year-old . . . if that wasn’t a contradiction in terms.

I describe the damage in this imprecise manner in order to increase your understanding of the process that is under way in the victims of memory excision. I will also offer generalizations about their prognosis so you may prepare for the most likely results. I am generalizing about a process that is highly individualized, and therefore will not apply in every instance. These generalizations refer to matters as they stand now, and are as follows.

Those who are now in a coma will die. Those with substantial damage to early memory formations will continue to deteriorate, which for most will mean coma followed by death. Many, but not all, of those with light to moderate damage who seem to be stable are not. They, too, will deteriorate. Some of them will reach a point of stability; others will not, and will eventually slide into coma and death.

Everyone waited for a moment to see if Sam was done. Apparently he was.

“Well,” Karonski said, “that’s a grim prognosis. I’ll let Ruben decide who needs to know. Those who are caring for the victims, obviously. Others in emergency management. The president, of course, which brings me to something I suspect some of you aren’t going to like. Ruben called me as I was on my way here. People were already on edge about the amnesia victims, and the sudden appearance of dworg has made it worse. The president plans to give a prime-time speech to tell everyone about the Great War and her. ”

“What?” Rule exclaimed. “The market’s volatile, yes, but—”

“Is she nuts?” Cullen exclaimed.

“I don’t know,” Arjenie said. “Maybe it’s time to level with people. Have you seen the news lately? They’re talking about the end times and plagues of locusts—as if dworg were some kind of giant locust!—and alien invasion. The reputable channels are trying to pooh-pooh those ideas, but—”

“And this is going to help how?” Cullen said. “I can see it now. ‘Don’t worry, folks—we’re not dealing with an alien invasion. Just a crazy goddess who’s been trying to take over since before the dawn of recorded history.’ Yeah, that’ll do wonders for the Dow.”

“They’re also talking about conspiracies and cover-ups,” Karonski said dryly. “Which may be part of the reason the president decided to reveal more. She did run on a platform of increased transparency.”

Rule muttered something Lily didn’t catch.

“True,” Isen said, “but I don’t believe the president has solicited our opinion. We’d do better to focus on how the clans should handle this. We’ll need to get in touch with the other Rhos.”

“Who are not going to appreciate the fact that the president knows about the Great War.”

“The Lady never forbade our speaking of it. That’s tradition, but Nokolai broke no covenant by revealing historical facts the rest of the world was unaware of.”

“Until now. Or soon, anyway.” Rule looked at Karonski. “When does she intend to speak?”

“Tomorrow night at nine Eastern. She’d like to have you and possibly some of the other Rhos join her electronically afterward, if you could be at a local television studio.”

Rule scowled. “I don’t know if that’s wise.”

Isen spoke. “Will the president insist on a script? If not, this would be a chance to spin the revelation the way we wish.”

Rule cast his father a glance. “It might, if we knew how we wished to spin it.”

Both Benedict and Cullen started to say something at the same time.

Delay this discussion, Sam told them in a voice sharp enough to cut . I need to relate the other matter that brought me to join your council tonight. I have learned much concerning the artifact in Friar’s possession.