Why are bad ideas only bad in hindsight? It was a thought upon which he could wax philosophic, except that, at the moment, poor Solara was slowly spinning in the center of the room, levitated and bathed in the bluish light emanating from the Mentathian holy relic below her feet. As disconcerting as that was, it was the look on her face that gave him chills. Look, singular? Looks plural was more accurate. Every time he blinked, her face was frozen in a different emotional expression. Rage, pain, love, sadness. It was all there, naked and uncomfortable to watch.
If he’d known what triggered the relic to do whatever it was currently doing, Feld might’ve known how to turn it off. Unfortunately, he had left the room to arm the suite’s security systems when Solara had started her analysis. Obviously, she found something. Or something found her. With that last thought, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Feld tried using the FeldComm to analyze the relic and its energy field, but the sensor analysis database loaded in the micro’s memory systems was too limited. According to the readout, the energy field contained some aspects of a time-stasis field, but the energy signature was more complex than that. Much more complex.
At least, they were safe here in Dinara City. After the T’Malka incident and the false covert op that had originally brought him here, Feld decided to maintain the safehouse that he’d already paid good money for. It was located in the luxurious outskirts of the rough-and-tumble city and had served him well. It was here that he had stashed various valuable items, including the holy relic he had stolen from Mentath-IV.
Now Feld was going to have to leave and stash his friend here for the time being. He needed help. He knew who to contact, but the price was going to be high. He probably should have gone to see her before their amateurish blunder. Now, his friend was in danger. Hindsight told him that that was what he got for taking the cheap way out. He told hindsight to frell itself.
With a heavy heart, he reset the security sensors and opened the door to leave. Looking back at Solara, floating helpless above the floor, spinning slowly like a display case ballerina, his breath caught. Her face had taken on a sad, pleading expression. With a sigh, he shut the door behind him while hindsight kept its mouth shut.
It only took a Protean hour to reach the apartment by airtaxi, nestled as it was in the quieter Mystics’ Hill section of the city. Or Headcase Hill as some of the locals called it. Some visions, after all, require a certain pharmaceutical inducement.
Feld walked up to the building’s main entrance and read the list of names next to the buzzers, hoping that she hadn’t moved. Ahh. There it was. Thirdmoon, Mystic, #4.
He pressed the buzzer and was answered by an audible click from the apartment door. Quickly, he jumped inside and closed the door behind him. The mixed scents of cooked food, burnt herbs and various narcotic powders hung in the stale air of the building. He swooned once before his body silently adjusted to the noxious environment.
Feld spied the escaladder at the far wall next to the elevator. He walked over to it, grabbed and stepped on the rungs and said, “4”. Slowly, comfortably, it raised him to the 4th floor platform.
A single, ornately carved and painted door let out onto this floor. It was currently ajar with a scarlet, sweet-smelling smoke wafting out. Feld cautiously entered the apartment and looked around.
A glowing brazier with reddish smoke pouring forth lay in the center of the large room. The smoke stung his eyes and his lungs burned as he tried to breathe in the foul air. On the floor on the opposite side of the brazier lay Sondra Thirdmoon, bent backwards in loose-fitting clothing, legs splayed under her at odd angles, arms extended lazily over her head.
Feld dropped down under the crimson cloud and crawled across to her. She appeared to be sleeping, perhaps dreaming if the movements under her closed eyes meant anything.
Suddenly, she opened her eyes and turned her head towards him. “What have you done?” she yelled angrily. “You’ve killed us all!”
Feld was taken aback by the violence of her outburst. “What?” was all he was able to utter.
“You have no idea do you?” Sondra continued. “You have no idea what powers you are dealing with. You should have come to me earlier.” She raised herself up onto her knees and shouted into the air, “Ventilators on high! Housebots secure premises.”
Upon her command, the door to her apartment closed and locked. The smoke, which momentarily filled the room, was vented outside through ceiling ducts. From unseen places, small housekeeping robots began scurrying around the apartment to clean the dust and smoke residue. One robot passed by Feld’s feet and extinguished the brazier with a short stream of water. Unfazed by the environmental changes around her, Sondra rose to her feet and strode purposefully to the the back rooms. Feld, unsure of what to do, followed.
Feld caught up with her in her bedroom. She was packing some items into a traveling bag. “Sondra, what are you talking about?”
She spun upon hearing his words, the anger still evident in her face and voice. “Have so many cycles passed that you’ve forgotten about my abilities? Don’t tell me that your old preconceptions and spirit blocks have returned.”
Sondra’s question prompted Feld to think back to his earlier days on Nova Terra, specifically the spirit commune outside of New Berne. It was there that he first met Sondra Thirdmoon, former resident of White Cap and spirit guide of distant Algonquin ancestry. Feld had joined the commune on a lark after finally giving up the Hunt. Feeling ungrounded and without purpose, Feld wandered around Nova Terra trying to find his place in the world.
For three cycles, that place was with Sondra Thirdmoon, his spirit guide, mentor and, eventually, lover. It was a relationship that brought deep meaning to his life and the things he learned from her kept him grounded in difficult situations. However, after three cycles in one place, his wanderlust got the better of him and he left. He had begged Sondra to leave with him, but she was honing her skills and pursuing a growing spiritual awareness within her and remained behind.
Their last moments together on Nova Terra occurred while he slept in a hotel room in New Berne. It was his first night away from Sondra and her absence was agony for him. Wallowing in his loneliness and questioning his decision to leave her, he attempted his first unassisted Spirit Walk. His spirit met hers in the shadow of a mountain waterfall near the commune. Their joining was electric, yet was also the most peaceful event in his entire life. He knew then that their paths would cross somehow.
And cross they did, on a handful of occasions, but events had always conspired to keep them apart. It was the pain he felt at each parting that kept him from seeing her when he discovered that she lived in Dinara City. He should have known better.
“You should have known better than to frell around with a holy relic. What were you thinking? There are reasons that such things are kept under close guard by their cultures and not all of those reasons are monetary.” She shook her head at him. “Really. I’m disappointed at you Mathieu. I really am.”
She put the strap of her traveling bag over her shoulder and left the room. Feld followed her, asking, “Where are we going?”
The frustration on her face when she turned around was clear. “Why, to your safehouse, of course. I have a few million souls to save, starting with your friend’s.”