Chapter 50
The Cenobium doesn’t have a veil, obviously, so Elegy flies the Sparrow—-parked on the salt flat—-to the nearest one, in a so--called neutral settlement west of the Cenobium known as Laketa.
Before she set out, she took a quill from the Sparrow’s emergency kit and scribbled a message:
General,
Requesting an emergency meeting.
—-Elegy
She only hopes the general is quick to receive it.
Laketa is nestled up against a huge lake, bright blue and dazzling in the daylight, but at night, dark as a hole in the ground.
The buildings crawl along the coast, some lit by their own closed power systems, some by the flickering lanterns.
It looks like a piece of Cedrae country spliced together with a Talusar city.
The trees are dense at the edge of the settlement, but she lands the ship in a clearing and secures it.
She looks like a Scout, and looking like a Scout is like wearing armor, in a place like this. People in Laketa don’t want to catch the attention of a bounty hunter.
The veil she knows about is in the back room of an old inn. It’s a building made to look older than it is, with huge stones stacked into a tower and grand arches above each doorway and window. Walking up to it, she feels like she’s from a time of princesses and bards and horse--drawn carriages.
There’s an older woman behind the front desk, tongue sticking out of her mouth as she pokes at a piece of embroidery. She glances up at Elegy. “No Scouts allowed.”
“Not here to find anyone,” Elegy replies. “I just want to use your veil.”
“Owning a strictly regulated Cedrae relic would be illegal.”
“So I guess I just hallucinated using one here a couple years ago?”
The woman pulls the needle through her embroidery again. Then she sets it down and beckons for Elegy to follow her.
The lobby is warm and creaky with a fire burning in the fireplace. None of the inn’s guests—-if there are any—-are awake at this hour. The woman leads Elegy through a hidden door in the wood paneling and into the veil room.
It’s small, just large enough for the veil apparatus itself, with a threadbare red rug on the floor.
The woman holds out her hand for her payment, and Elegy presses a gold coin into it.
Gold is useful everywhere, no matter what country you’re in, and this meeting is important enough that Elegy doesn’t mind parting with it.
She steps through the veil and speaks the general’s name into the iridescence.
There’s nothing to do after that but wait for the general to arrive.
She had three to choose from: Thompson, who’s fond of her but still sees her as the near--child she was when she first met him; Saetang, who also likes her, but breaks rules too easily; and Okoro, who seems to hate her, but who has the most sway with Larke and the Quorum that rules Cedre in all matters except military.
She knows that if she can get Okoro to listen to her, the others—-and crucially, the Quorum—-will follow.
It doesn’t take Okoro long to arrive. Her hair is black now, no trace of blue, and she’s dressed all in white. She squints at Elegy when she arrives, and demands, “You couldn’t find somewhere safer to call me from?”
“Actually, no,” Elegy says.
Okoro seems to reflect on this. “Fine, then. You’re safe? You didn’t get exposed to Fever?”
“I’m fine,” Elegy says. “You? Are you on Cedre Station?”
Okoro nods. “I was cleared. I return to Nusanta tomorrow.”
“What’s happening there?”
“Surely you didn’t bring me here to deliver news to you.” She scowls at Elegy, and Elegy scowls back.
“Obviously not. But I’d still like to know.”
“Cedre Station is under lockdown. Testing everyone. Those who get cleared move to the Grasslands District until everything is sorted. But the Fever is spreading rapidly, even with the quarantine in place. It is difficult to contain, as you know.”
Elegy does know.
“I saw footage of you escorting a man off--station,” Okoro says, and she paces a few steps before turning back to Elegy. “A man with a tattoo on his throat that signifies he’s a priest of the Fever.”
“Yes.” There’s no point in pretending it didn’t happen.
“Would you care to explain why you saved the life of the man responsible for thousands of Cedrae deaths?”
“You know he’s a priest,” Elegy says, “so you already know why. If you lay a hand on one without their permission, the Talusar will cut it off. Imagine what they would do if we held, tried, and executed one.”
Okoro snorts, and the sound, her posture, her demeanor—-they remind Elegy that the general is young.
She likely ascended to her position because of some valorous act in battle.
That’s how succession works in Nusanta. Leaders are battle--proven, which means their path is cleared by loss.
She wonders what losses Okoro endured to get where she is.
“You’re planning something,” Okoro says. “And you need my help.”
It’s as clear an opening as Elegy could have hoped for, but she isn’t sure where to begin.
There are so many threads to weave together.
Theren’s missing memory. The plant from another world.
The prophecy that focused Rava’s attention on Theren.
Elegy clears her throat, and starts where instinct tells her to start.
“Do you think someone from outside our solar system has ever landed here?”
Okoro is still facing out, arms crossed. Her eyes slide to Elegy’s.
“Given how dire our situation is, I’m going to assume you’re asking because you already know someone has,” she says. “So tell me what you found out.”
“I know that the invitation this planet once received was not the only time we’ve had outside contact,” Elegy says. “I know that just before either of us was born, someone from another world landed here and left a message for us. What do you know?”
“I know . . .” Okoro sighs. “I know that Kesia Forint had contact with a man whose origins she couldn’t identify. And I know that your father had a collection of fragments from that man’s ship.”
“How . . . what?”
“Your father wasn’t just some Scout, or even just the father of the Sword’s second child,” Okoro says, looking frustrated.
“After the Talusar exiles from the Hoatzin were questioned under truth serum, and Kesia -Forint revealed her connection to an otherworldly visitor, your mother tasked your father with finding out whatever he could about him. Most of what he gathered, he sent along to her; some of it he kept for himself—-probably not legal, but your mother only cared about certain rules, not all rules.” Okoro sniffs disapprovingly.
“The Sword then shared her findings with Larke as a matter of state security. And whatever she shared with Larke, she also shared with her generals.”
Elegy suppresses a flare of anger. She knew Larke had secrets—-that Cedre had secrets. But information about her father? Relevant intelligence from the woman who betrayed their mother? She can’t believe Larke kept that knowledge from her.
“You say that this man from another world, he left us a message?” Okoro says. “How? Is he still among us?”
“No.” Elegy forces herself to focus on the present rather than her anger.
“The man—-Sevik is his name—-left a message in the past. It was something only an epocha could find. He told Theren Forint to come and find him . . . through a doorway in the stars. And he buried the coordinates for that doorway in the past, where we can’t currently access them. ”
“Forint? Why Forint?”
Elegy just waits for her to piece it together.
“Oh.” Okoro sighs. “He’s the man’s son, obviously. Interesting. So now—-you’re on your way to find an epocha of your own to retrieve the coordinates this otherworldly paramour of Kesia Forint left behind.”
“Not just any epocha. Fenn Kovek, who is currently imprisoned in a monastery outside of Valla,” Elegy says. “It’s a dangerous mission, one I recognize I might not come back from. But if I do come back from it . . .”
Okoro laughs. She stops, and then laughs again.
“You’ll need the Sundial,” she supplies. “So that you can make your Pilgrimage dreams come true.”
“I don’t give a shit about the Pilgrimage or the Restorationists or any of it,” Elegy says. “I tried so hard not to walk a path where I’d have to make big decisions like this, but I can’t avoid it anymore. This is what I have to do now. And I need your help.”
“You may be overestimating my influence in government,” Okoro says.
“Not even I can persuade Larke and the Quorum to agree to let you take the Sundial out for a spin like it’s a damn Hummingbird.
It’s an ancient, extremely valuable piece of equipment, and that’s not even factoring in its symbolic value—-”
“The Sundial is rebuilt and ready to fly. It’s staffed with a small crew of volunteers ready and eager to go on a one--way mission—-a minimal risk to Cedre’s overall well--being,” Elegy says.
“And I don’t think you can persuade Larke.
At this point, she’s so afraid of me trying to take power from her that she won’t listen to a word I say. ”
“The Sword has authority over the Sundial,” Okoro points out.
“Unless two of three generals and the Quorum vote to overrule her,” Elegy replies.
“Ah. So you propose mutiny.”
“She won’t listen to me,” Elegy says. “I tried to warn her about this attack, and she didn’t listen—-”
“Because the only evidence you had was a quote about horses—-”
“She tried to compromise the integrity of a valuable asset with the threat of truth serum—-”
“His mother was a traitor!”
“Do you believe I’m the Hope of Cedre?” Elegy says, suddenly, louder than she meant to.
Okoro seems startled by the question.
“I believe . . . that the Fever produces effects we don’t currently understand with our limited scientific knowledge,” she says.
“I believe those effects pertain to the past and to the future. I believe the augurs have reliably communicated their perception of the future to Cedre before, and it’s reasonable to assume they’re being honest with us now.
So yes, I suppose I do believe you are the Hope of Cedre.
What does that have to do with anything? ”
“Did you really think that a single individual would be able to triumph over the Talusar without doing something out of the ordinary? Without making extreme demands? Without ignoring protocol?” Elegy says.
“Did you imagine I would singlehandedly defeat our enemies without needing allies or any kind of assistance? Why is it that people are content to know that a huge, terrifying fate has been dumped in my lap by a bunch of people who see the fucking future, but when it comes down to seeing that fate realized, they’re suddenly too spooked to do anything to bring it about? ”
Elegy leans toward her.
“After this attack on Cedre Station, we’ll be weaker than ever before,” Elegy says.
“Outnumbered and outmatched in every way possible. If this feels like a dramatic move with little chance of success, that’s because it is.
But if I fail, it won’t matter, because Cedre will be dead anyway. Surely you realize that.”
And she knows that Okoro does. Maybe that’s why she chose to meet with her, of all the generals—-not just because she’s known for being reasonable and politic. But because she’s realistic to the point of seeming cynical.
“Okay,” Okoro says.
“Okay?”
“Okay, I’ll convene the other generals immediately, and tomorrow we’ll call for an emergency Quorum meeting,” she says. “No guarantees, but I promise you that . . .” She sighs. “I promise you that I will fight as hard as I can to get this done.”
Elegy is so relieved she almost bursts into tears.
She reaches across the gap that separates them and touches Okoro’s arm.
She can’t feel it, and neither can Okoro, but she can see it, the place where the sheen covering her body intersects with the illuminated projection of Okoro’s.
Okoro stares at her arm in obvious surprise.
“Thank you,” Elegy says.