Stones: Theory (Stones #4) (30 page)

“Do you have it on video?”

“Yes, but—”

Ryzaard slides a cigarette in his mouth. “Then show us.”

The holo comes back up out of table.

“There’s an old tree in the forest.” Diego works his fingers on his slate as he talks. “Miyazawa often goes there to commune with the
Kami
. Kind of a Shinto thing.”

Kalani leans close to Elsa Bergman. “
Kami
means
god
.” He whispers loud enough for everyone to hear.

She slaps his face.

His hand drops down and pulls the knife from the sheath strapped to his thigh.

“Enough,” Ryzaard says. “I won’t have this meeting descend into chaos. Everyone listen. We have other matters to discuss and little time to do it.” He nods at Diego. “Continue, but make it quick.”

Diego clears his throat. “There’s an AV unit on the tree so we can monitor Miyazawa when he goes there. Sometimes I use it to play music inside his head. He thinks he’s connecting with the
Kami
. That’s what happened a few minutes ago. I played the music. He thought the
Kami
were singing to him. So far, so good.” He brushes his fingers across the slate. “Now watch this.”

As they watch the holo, Miyazawa is lying down at the base of the tree. He stands and turns around, as though staring at a ghost and hearing voices. Then he lunges and stumbles to the ground. Finally, he stands again, raises a fist in the air, rips his robe down the front and remains motionless for more than a minute. Then, with a big smile on his face, he turns and walks away.

“Looks to me like he thinks he saw a
Kami
,” Diego says. “Or felt its presence. Only this time, I wasn’t doing anything to him.”

Across the table, Jerek raises an eyebrow. “He probably
did
see something that’s not really there. We have a word for that. It’s called a
hallucination
.”

Diego nods. “It’s possible. Miyazawa’s been using a lot of derm patches lately. And he’s stopped eating. His hormonal imbalance is off the charts.”

“We all saw the vomiting.” Jing-wei points at the holo. “Looks to me like a classic case of derm overdose. It’s put him in a state of delirium. I’d say he’s in very unstable mental condition right now.” She looks at Ryzaard. “If we want to keep him as the head of the Earth United Shinto Alliance, we better take action. Before he dies.”

“Agreed,” Ryzaard says. “What do you suggest?”

Jing-wei’s eyes wander the table. “Transdermal nutrient additives, at the very least. If he won’t eat or drink when he’s awake, we’ll give him TNAs when he’s asleep.”

“Right,” Ryzaard says. “Good solution.”

Diego raises his hand. “Hold on, what if he’s
not
hallucinating?”

Swinging around to look at him, Jing-wei shakes her head. “What do you mean? We all saw the video. It’s clear that—”

“Just look at this.” Diego taps his fingers across his slate, and the holo image floating above the table moves backwards to the beginning. “OK, now look carefully.”

They all stare at the image.

“I still don’t see anything,” Kalani says.

“Look more closely,” Diego says. “At the bottom of the holo. On the ground, a couple of feet from Miyazawa.” Diego moves a fingertip across the slate and enlarges the holo to high magnification.

A faint moving shadow like a round blob darkens the flowers and ferns. They bend slightly, as if a weight were pressing down on them.

“I don’t know,” Jerek says. “Without further analysis, it’s impossible to say it’s not just an artifact of lighting.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” Diego says. “So I went back and pulled the source data for this shot from the AV unit up on the tree. Unfortunately, the unit didn’t have full spectrum capabilities. It’s got the basics. Infrared, ultraviolet, sonic and magnetic. I did overlays with the first three and came up with nothing.” Diego pauses and looks around the table.

“Enough theatrics,” Ryzaard says. “Show us.”

“All right.” Diego nods, swiping and taping his finger on the slate. “This is what it looks like if you filter out everything but magnetic resonance.”

The holo switches to a black and white image. Miyazawa looks like a stylized skeleton, every bone, muscle and tendon standing out in stark relief. The eight lobes of his brain, four on each side, dance above the ladder-like structure of his spine.

Diego points at the holo. “Now look carefully at the area in front of the priest.”

The faint outline of a humanoid body, complete with a head, arms and legs, hangs suspended in the air a few feet off the ground. The priest lunges, passing cleanly through the shape. Then he turns and rips the front of his robe. The suspended body disintegrates into millions of tiny black grains.

Miyazawa absorbs them into his body like a sponge.

There’s silence at the table.

“Interesting,” Ryzaard says. “I’m not sure what it proves, but it
is
interesting.” He turns to Diego. “What do you make of it?”

Diego’s eyes drop to his slate. “I’m not a religious person. But if I didn’t know better, I’d say Miyazawa just got possessed by thousands of demons.”

“You may be right,” Ryzaard says. “You may just be right.”

T
hey move forward through the darkness across a barren landscape under a pitch-black dome of cloudless, starless sky.

“I feel so alone.” Yarah stares up at the emptiness above their heads. “No stars anywhere.”

Matt pauses to look up. “Jhata must like it this way. She put this planet in the farthest reaches of her domains, so far away that not even the light of stars can reach it.”

“Never heard of this Jhata you’re talking about.” Alexa stumbles along behind them. “To tell you the truth, I don’t even know if I’m really here. Maybe I’m back in the hotel room relaxing in the glow of my derm collection. Maybe all of this is just part of the ride.”

Glancing back, Matt shakes his head. “I’d give that stuff up, if I were you.”

“I’ve tried.” Alexa laughs. “If this Jhata person wants to be so alone all the time, why is there a village down here in the valley?”

Matt looks up from the ground at the flickering lights just a kilometer ahead. Jessica’s tracks are still leading directly to it.

“No idea,” he says. “As lonely as she is, maybe she needs someone to worship her.” He drops his eyes back down to the dirt and moves forward. “Just hope she doesn’t discover we’re here. Trust me, you don’t want to meet her.”

With Yarah bent close to the ground with a flashlight, they push through the desert landscape between prickly bushes and through a groundcover of thorns that spots the dirt. A hundred meters from the first hut, Matt pauses and drops his backpack to the ground. He pulls out the barrel and stock of a small pulse rifle, snaps them together and hands it to Alexa.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” she says.

“Don’t use it,” Matt says. “Unless I tell you to.” He pulls out another pulse rifle barrel twice as large and clicks it to a triangular stock. “Stay behind me, Yarah.” He turns to Alexa. “You’ll bring up the rear. Keep your finger
off
the trigger.” Standing up, he balances the pack on his shoulders and moves ahead.

As they approach the wall of the first hut, Matt drops down and studies the ground. “Jessica’s tracks end here. See the blood marks on the ground? Looks like she collapsed.”

“What are all these footprints around her?” Yarah bends close with the flashlight. “Some of them are as large as your feet. They lead off that way.” She motions down a path between huts.

Matt nods. “Must be men in the village. They found her and carried her off.” He drops the pack down against the wall. “Let’s rest here. No need to rush in and provoke a blind fight in the dark. Jessica might get hurt.”

“If she’s still alive.” Alexa kicks a rock with her toe.

“She’s alive,” Yarah says. “I can’t find her mind, but I
feel
her, somewhere.”

“Then we’ll wait until morning. We’ll take turns keeping watch. You two sleep first. Be prepared to wake up fast if anything happens.” Matt pulls the dark Stone out of his pocket and holds it in his hands. Yarah drops down beside him and rests her head on his shoulder.

Alexa sighs and sits on the other side of Yarah. “Please wake me up from this nightmare.” She gazes up at the starless sky, palms pressed together above her chest.

“I
am sorry.” The young man backs away toward the door. “It is the decision of the Ring. They demand you bring her now.” He disappears through the open door into the darkness outside.

Saatuk’s eyes drift down to the young woman dressed in a clean white robe whose body lies on a woven blanket of bright red fibers. “So young. And her feet are almost healed.” Dipping a cloth in brown liquid, she bathes the wounds on the young woman’s ankles. “The
kumpaas
juice is working its magic.”

“No need to waste any more of it.” Kutaas sits at a low wooden table and strings a narrow cord through a hole in a brown piece of wood carved in the shape of a fish. “I have prepared this for her. So that her spirit can swim back quickly to her ancestors.” He walks to the young woman on the floor, bends down and ties it around her neck.

The sound of footsteps and voices approach the hut. Men stand outside holding torches. The blades of their long knives reflect the flames like tongues of gold hanging at their sides. One steps forward into the open door and bows his head.

“It is time,” he says. “She is ours to take to the Ring.” He glances down at the body of the young woman on the floor. “We will be merciful and quick. That is more than she could hope for from the Spider Queen that lives above us.”

Saatuk shakes her head. “You know nothing of mercy. But I will obey the voice of the Ring. If it is the will of our ancestors, she will live.” She motions for the men to enter. “Be gentle with her. She is still flying on the wings of the
drangee
leaves.”

Four men enter. They lay down long poles on each side of the woman and lash her wrists and ankles to the wood. Then each of them grabs a corner of the red blanket and gently lifts the woman off the floor. Saatuk and Kutaas follow them out into the night. Others join from surrounding huts as the procession moves down a dirt path. When they arrive at the center of the village, five hundred men and women sit on the ground around a circle of fire. Small children linger on the outer edges, stealing glances over the heads of their elders.

Three old women in identical black robes, each with a staff twice her height, sit on a bench in the center of the circle of fire. The men carrying the young woman in the blanket walk through a gap in the circle and lay her on a bed of flowers in front of the old women. Each of the men bows and exits.

Silence sweeps over the crowd.

The old women standing in the center look up. One speaks.

“Come forward, Saatuk. With your husband.”

Whispers and coughs float through the gathering. Saatuk works her way forward through the seated crowd. Kutaas follows, his head bowed. They enter through the gap in the circle of fire and sit on the ground next to the young woman.

One of the three old women gets to her feet and drives her staff into the ground. “Seal the Ring. Let none enter until the word is given.”

Four men lay down firewood across the opening. Flames slide across the gap and close it like slithering snakes.

“We are alone and forsaken.” The old woman points up with her staff. “Look at the sky above us. The two great whales that have always guided our people,
Sogalikas
and
Suquanni
, have left the ocean above us. Now the night is dark. The other swarms of smaller fish have followed them away. We pray to them day and night, but they do not hear our cries.”

A spontaneous chorus of moaning starts deep in the throats of the people sitting around the ring of fire. It is low and almost inaudible, a resonance in the chest more than a sound heard by the ears.

“For a hundred years the Spider Queen has ruled over the
Chimpotee
people. Our villages disappear at random, leaving only empty holes in the ground. In the past, we have prayed to
Sogalikas
and
Suquanni
and enjoyed their protection. Other villages around us were ripped away, never to return. We laughed as we took over their fields and hunting grounds. We blamed them for their own misfortune and found many reasons to explain it. They were not as diligent in their offerings. They did not respect the old ways. Their people were fat and lazy. Our village multiplied and prospered. Our people grew strong in their pride.”