“The Executor requests a meeting, before hís ship departs.”
“With Cuxil?” I ask, when no one seems to stir.
“With you.”
“That is incredibly unwise,” Cuxil blurts.
“I agree. I will send word.”
“I’ll meet hím,” I declare, and feel Cuxil’s hand tighten on my arm. “I’ll do it.”
A moment in which everyone waits for me to change my mind. I do not. “Why?” whispers Cuxil in Xiha, for my ears only. “I am an ambassador, you are here on my mission – tell me why.”
“I am… curious.”
“If you kill hím, there will be another Executor, and nothing will change. Do you understand that?”
Five scars on the lips: one who sells you produce that otherwise you might not buy.
Scar on the left thumb: lawmaker, sealer of deals.
Scar on the right thumb: firefighter, emergency responder, the cleaner-up of disaster and flood.
Scars on the feet: courier, messenger, Normspace pilot. No pointscarring the feet of an arcspace Pilot – they are not going to live long enough to reap the honour of the mark.
There is a scar on my left arm. It came from the fires of Hasha-to, and though my demise and re-creation had some flaws in their execution, this scar remained.
“Iamcurious,” I admit. “And I would wager: so is hé.”
Chapter 43
Here are some of the minds I have felt, Tryphon interfaced with my skull, strapped to a Pilot’s chair:
In a bunker made of sickness and stone, her name was Jaikyun, had been Jaikyun but now was
Jaikyun Yunnji Therhas Lusina Luchia Markis Hand Kereena Kao Augustin.
All of them, all of them screaming, all of them calling out where are you, where are you, help me, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here where are you?
These were not minds joined in harmony. They did not open themselves up for scrutiny, but rather their darkest secrets were dragged out in shame and horror to be seen by others who were as mad as themselves, glimpses of souls blossoming and burning out in the endless dark like lightning that you turn to see and is already gone
Already gone
Is anyone there can anyone help me help me help me
In time, I learned to ignore the worst of the weeping, the great sloshy drenching of minds being torn apart, and listen for the drone of transmission. It echoed like across the dark, a single voice constantly intoning numbers, numbers, numbers.
87,543,821
61,000
137,839
15
2,187,356
Sometimes the numbers stopped, and actual words were barked.
