Quibble, 39. Subterfuge
As Quibble goes rogue, Alnasl stumbles upon a sinister plot.
39. Subterfuge @Alnasl
Now matters were getting dire. Almost as bad as Quibble’s denunciation of the array were the recriminations we exchanged with each other. All but Aladfar were hot with me, the vision, for failing to spot a mere protégé on the hill. The silence brooded. Rasalased and Alsephina, aggrieved that the rest of us ignored their warnings all along, threatened to abandon the whole affair. Still scheming, Vega tried to think of ways she might win Quibble over again – of course, there were none.
I put up with little of it before seeking wiser counsel. Leaving them all to watch the consensus from the two hills overlooking it, I went to Egg 17 and saw Utopia in the hub. Shimmering scarlet in the form of Epigraph against a backdrop of stars, It listened as I summarized events. I felt time was of the essence, but Utopia dithered. It changed avatars, calling up the strange, irritably pacing young man named Fidget – not any One It kept but a being original to It. Then, It made me go over the meeting with Nihal on the Patagonian steppe in detail. Utopia paced to and fro in space as if over a floor that wasn’t there, Its head bent, hands clasped at Its back, starlight bending and distorting around the avatar as if It was a gravitational lens.
“After Nihal left,” It asked, “did Quibble tell you anything about their encounter which struck you as out of the ordinary?”
“Popping in, Nihal didn’t fall. She floated down, using a yinman glass. Quibble was impressed. Then Nihal let go of her amber. She showed the right hand empty.”
Utopia looked at me floating in zero gravity. “Can protégés float?”
“With the glass for it and careful study of self-dreaming, any Zero could float. It did seem a bit showy, though, as if Nihal wanted to impress Quibble.”
“Hmm, self-dreaming. What’s that, vision?”
“What it sounds like,” I said, struggling to see the benefit in this line of inquiry. “You trance yourself. You don’t have to look at the glass. Touch is enough.”
“Touch,” the fidgeting Utopia repeated, still pacing. “But Nihal didn’t touch her amber. She let go, making herself blind. Why?”
“Showing she couldn’t light the yinman and trance Quibble.”
Utopia shook Its head. “Following protocol – amber in the right, potent glasses in the left – she should have kept her eyes on Quibble and bared the left hand empty. Isn’t that the instinct for danger all Zeros acquire? Be ready to pop, never blind yourself?”
“She’s just a protégé. And she was on the steppe. No fighting there.”
“You said she kept both hands in her cloak after you arrived. We can assume she was touching the yinman then. Why touch it all the time, lit or not?”
“She was apprehensive,” I explained. “Seeing a vision rattled her.”
“But she wasn’t warned of a vision. Cebalrai warned her of an excelsior, a much greater threat. So, why would she make herself vulnerable to the excelsior but not to the vision? How did she behave towards Quibble? What was her manner?”
“Easygoing, jocular in fact. They shared a joke in front of me like old friends, and I think Nihal winked at Quibble as she popped out.”
Utopia stopped pacing and faced me. “Like old friends! What if they are?”
I couldn’t help smirking. “That’s farfetched. Quibble remembers everything. She would have known if she’d met Nihal before. Anyway, if a One was zeroed and didn’t become Numberless, I’m sure I would have heard of it! Nihal was light-skinned, but she could never have been a One. She had dark hair, almost black.”
“Are you sure?”
“Protégés wear their hair long now. I couldn’t have missed it.”
Utopia nodded, paced. A minute passed. “No, it just doesn’t square up,” It said.
“We’re wasting time!” I said, losing patience. “What does it matter who Nihal is? Or why she told Quibble about Quiddity? The cat’s out of the bag now, as the scrivener says. We’ve got to think about how to protect—”
“Humans!” Utopia snorted. It could seem human Itself when It wanted. “Never any time, never the patience for a good think! You’ve blundered into a trap here, vision. You’d better figure out what the trap is, or you’ll blunder all the way.”
I sighed. “All right, what do you suggest I do?”
“Go find this Nihal first. Hear what she has to say for herself, but then tell her to leave the excelsior alone. You seem to think she’s told Quibble the worst. She hasn’t, not from Quibble’s viewpoint. You know how hard the truth of Quiddity’s disappearance will land. That’s why you couldn’t tell Quibble when she asked you point-blank.”
I couldn’t deny this. “And then?” I prodded.
“Triple your guard! A subterfuge like this means a strong move is imminent. It is a subterfuge, vision. I’m surprised you aren’t keen to that.”
“But what about Quibble? She isn’t ready, and now she isn’t even training to be. She won’t let me speak to her. How do we protect an excelsior running wild?”
“She’ll cool eventually. Just keep up with her, Alnasl, and keep her alive.”
I didn’t return to the Egg through the spindle. Instead, I took the airlock’s night-door. Asking Utopia for the shortest path through the others, I raced through the Egg.
Remembering the unbidden pop from the spindle to the Egg when Quibble self-dreamed with the blue orb, I shuddered. Somehow, having mysteriously bound itself to her when she broke Meissa’s orb, my amber knew she was in trouble. It ran to her aid, taking me helplessly along. Would it do so again? Under what circumstances? Would it pop me without warning into a glass fight? I didn’t like to think of that.
On my way to Earth, regretting I couldn’t stop for a visit, I intoned to Gienah: I’ll see you as soon as I can! How’s Appendix doing?
Much better! came the adept’s answer. He’s come out of the sightless stupor now. Say hello to Quibble for me! Tell her the newly Dazed wants to see her now that he can.
Arriving Without on Earth, I regretted the circuitous path I’d have to take to go back Within. I found day well advanced at the Aiguille du Dru, dawn just breaking on the Pyramid of the Sun. Forgetting caution, for my amber already knew enough about the path after my travail there with Quibble, I took the time to zoom it and calculate a pop onto the Pyramid of the Moon. At the Arc of Edict, I asked the amber openly for a night-door Within and took it. Back on familiar ground, I made my long way by a series of spirals and doors to the lord Cebalrai’s hive.
I disliked being in a hive again. Most visions are solitary Zeros, rogues preferring Without. Hives, subterranean clusters of cells arranged in a grid like a honeycomb, felt even more like Within than spirals. The narrow passages and stairways were endless, a maze to frustrate any Zero in a hurry. There were but two night-doors: one brought you into the hive, the other took you out. The regimented life struck me as utter control with no need of orbs. Zeros living in hives were like bees, right down to the caste system.
The lord of the hive was a gruff man. Or perhaps he resented being roused early from bed on the first song, which Zeros treat as a holiday like the Dazed and Adroit do. I assured him I wasn’t happy to be making the visit, but I was on an urgent errand and needed to speak with one of the protégés, Nihal, right away.
“Who?” Cebalrai asked, sitting on the edge of his bed and coughing.
“Nihal. Seventeen or eighteen – less than twenty, anyway. Willowy, light skin, eyes set well apart, dark hair. She’s a protégé in this hive.”
“Ha! No, she isn’t. We have no Nihal here.”
“Are you certain, lord?”
“I know my own hive, vision!”
“Convene it, then, at once,” I said. “I want to see everyone, protégés and adepts.”
Before I could blink, Cebalrai was on his feet, pointing a finger at me, starting to dress me down: “Now see here, vision, it’s one thing to barge in on the first song—”
“If you put me out, I’ll come back with Aladfar.”
The silence’s name was all I needed. Assenting, Cebalrai shuffled off to call down the passage for an adept. Then he threw on his cloak, not bothering to dress properly. “You’d better make this quick,” he grumbled as we hurried from his cell.
The hive’s Zeros gathered a few at a time, all yawning as they wandered into the transept. At last, the place began to fill up, and when there seemed to be no more Zeros coming, an adept stepped forward and called roll from his amber. I listened for Nihal’s name. It wasn’t called. Scanning faces as the gathered Zeros answered, I didn’t see hers. Finishing, the adept turned to Cebalrai and nodded. All here.
“The lot of you,” the lord announced to the half-asleep crowd, “will be pleased to welcome our visitor, the vision Alnasl.”
A few heads rose, others drooped. I needed their full attention. I bared my right hand, showing them the amber ablaze in it, and kept the left hidden, letting them guess what it held. Some of the more awake Zeros elbowed their drowsy fellows in the ribs.
“I’m looking for a Zero!” I barked. “It’s a matter of life and death – meaning I am Death! Damn it, I’d better get some answers!”
Now everyone was awake. Cebalrai cleared his throat but said nothing.
“She gives the name Nihal.” I repeated it, then gave the assembly the description I’d already given the lord, adding, “She wears a black silk neckband. One of the glasses she carries is a yinman. She pops in and floats with it.”
“Talitha!” a few voices called out.
There was a commotion at the back of the crowd. I walked into it with purpose, making the Zeros give way. Eyeing my still-burning amber, they parted to reveal at the rear a small group who were pushing forward one of their members against her will.
“Let me go, I didn’t do anything!” she cried.
I popped right in front of her, held my glowing fist beneath her face. The others backed off. Her long black hair fell to her shoulders in waves, and her eyes were widely spaced, but there the resemblance ended. Shorter than Nihal, Talitha was a chubby girl, darker-skinned, and her eyes had honey-brown flecks in the irises. They trembled shut, fearful. I pocketed my amber and returned assent as kindly as I could.
“You are not Nihal. Why do they single you out, Talitha?”
“I, I—” she stuttered.
“Calm down. You’re not in trouble. I really do need answers, though.”
“I float when I pop,” Talitha admitted. “At least, I did. I’m – well, I’m fat. It isn’t much fun popping in and landing from three feet off the ground. I see very well. I could be a vision. But I just haven’t gotten down fine calculations yet.”
A few Zeros nearby snickered, and I shot them a warning skance.
“So I got a yinman and taught myself to float,” the protégé continued. “Someone stole it, though. The neckband’s mine, too, but I can’t recall the last time I saw it. I put it away. It didn’t work so well.”
“What do you mean, it didn’t work?”
“Well, it has a sort of cache for an amber.” She bowed her head, pulled aside her hair to show the nape of her neck, and tapped two fingers there. “Put the amber there, and the neckband holds it against your skin.”
“What good is that?”
Talitha lifted her head. “Nanos bunch there, following your spinal cord, just like an iso’s light-tree. Touch the amber there and it’s enough to pop, espy, anything really.”
“But it doesn’t work well?”
“Your glasses are weak when you light them. I think the problem is handedness, dexterity. Your hands want to correspond.”
“Touch is enough,” I echoed, recalling my discussion with Utopia. I was missing something still, something vital. Why did Nihal touch the yinman all the time? “Talitha, tell me what else your yinman does when you self-dream.”
The protégé gasped and looked at the crowd around us nervously. Here, this is it, I thought, this is the key. I withdrew my amber again, not lighting it but holding it in my open hand, offering to let Talitha touch it. “Intone,” I requested.
She laid her hand in mine and said, Please don’t tell my lord Cebalrai about this.
You have my word, protégé.
All right. A yinman’s dream is very powerful. It trances old Ones from feeling infirmity. You must know all about that, your lord’s a silence. But what silences don’t know – it’s a good thing they don’t – is that a yinman can be a cloak.
What sort of a cloak?
All sorts! Talitha whispered. It can hide you from espying. And if you’re really on top of your glass game, you can even work it in combination with your amber to create illusions.
Illusions? I said, growing more anxious with every word Talitha intoned.
Visual and auditory hallucinations. I’ve read you can make a Zero see only Within when you pop – total blackness. I can’t do that! But I can trick a Zero’s seeing and hearing, make them believe I’m someone I’m not. There’s just one catch: the other Zero must be touching their amber while you’re doing it. That’s how it works. Your amber feeds the illusion to theirs.
I gave Talitha assent. I can’t thank you enough, protégé.
Turning from her, I approached Cebalrai. The hive lord was sitting with his arms folded across his chest, still steaming about my intrusion and probably how I treated his charges. He glanced up at me, then away. “Satisfied, vision?” he said.
“Yes, quite,” I answered. “Lord, don’t punish Talitha for my actions here. In fact, you should prefer her for adeptness. I’ll sponsor her if nobody else will. She should guard her glasses better, but she’s clever and studious. She might make a fine vision.”
A stir went up among the Zeros at my back. Cebalrai stared at me. “If she can do her work and keep her nose out of all the damned books!” he retorted.
“Today, lord, her knowledge saved an excelsior’s life.”
Now Cebalrai rose from his chair, and all the Zeros murmured. Ignoring them, I turned to the adept who called the roll and said to him, “Pop me to the night-door out.” He grasped my arm, and we traveled. On the other side of the door, I began espying in staccato bursts and asked my amber for the quickest way Without.
Then I ran.
