Vain Glory, Page 3

  Chapter 3

  “Beware the Answers”

  Early the next morning, Doris Purple knocked on the door to the suite. Vain Glory answered. The Concubine Priestess told Miss Glory, “Lady Dolorous wishes to enjoy breakfast with Dr. Clarity. Shall he join her?”

  “One moment.” Vain was about to knock on the door to Dr. Clarity’s room… but he opened it before she did so.

  “Yes, I shall be eating breakfast with Lady Dolorous,” he told Miss Glory.

  “You knew before you were invited.”

  “Miss Glory, I am clairvoyant.”

  “Indeed.”

  Before leaving, Dr. Clarity told Vain Glory, “We are guests, not prisoners. Enjoy a stroll within this great edifice. Be mindful of where you are not permitted to go.” Miss Glory smirked, understanding the hint completely. She nodded.

  Lady Dolorous sat at a table laden with food native to Mystique. The table was out on a balcony with a lovely view of the jungle and a lake far below. The Penumbran smiled, gesturing for the Mystic to join her. Dr. Clarity obliged. “Ambiguous, I hope you have been enjoying my hospitality.”

  “I have. Dolorous, why do you address me informally? You are entirely formal with the other guests.”

  “Forgive me, Dr. Clarity, if I offend you.”

  “I am unoffended. I am merely curious.”

  “Ambiguous Clarity, I yearn for your affection.”

  “You desire my affection? Dolorous the Enticing, you are indeed a comely female. You are alien to me, however, and I am alien to you. It would be unnatural for us to be ‘affectionate’ with each other.”

  The Penumbran female giggled. She assured, “I am sworn to chastity. You shall be as well, should you accept what I offer.”

  “What do you offer?”

  “I offer your people cheap labor and terrible ferocity.”

  The Mystic arched an eyebrow. He asked, “The Concubines shall be our labor and the Phantoms our mercenaries?”

  “You, Ambiguous Clarity, shall be a lord of the Living Darkness. The minions of the Unheard Whisper shall obey you by its authority.”

  “Lady Dolorous, I am a citizen of the Mystic Confederacy. Conversion to the cult of the Living Darkness is punishable by death.”

  The Penumbran shrugged. She dismissed, “Laws are whatever those in power want them to be.”

  “Indeed. Is the race of Penumbra yet in power?”

  Lady Dolorous snickered. “Our home is nigh desolate and our wealth is elsewhere. Our influence is the favor of others. We of Penumbra are the power that never was.”

  “You are an empire of Shadow.”

  “We grovel for what we have. We live in fear of extinction. We are pathetic.”

  “You disparage your own people,” Dr. Clarity noted. “Last night, you disparaged the Concubines of the Great Seen Unseen.”

  “We envy the Concubines of the Great Seen Unseen.”

  “You envy them?”

  The Penumbran explained, “The Concubines of the Great Seen Unseen are many. Their world is a garden. Their wealth is their own.”

  The Mystic accused, “You converted the humanity of Golgoth to your cult of the Living Darkness. You deceived them into mass-producing slaves who hear the Unheard Whisper. You incited the slaves to overthrow and supplant their masters. The Concubines of the Great Seen Unseen are a power of your insidious making.”

  “As are the People of the Third Eye,” the Penumbran confessed. “Yes, the scourge of the galaxy is of our insidious making. The Phantoms were a race of feuding tribes and nations. We came to them offering wealth and secrets. We lured their wise and mighty to hear the Unheard Whisper. We chose one among them to be the voice of the Whisper. This voice became the Great Speaker that brought the tribes and nations together. United as the People of the Third Eye they ventured beyond their own world and became an empire.”

  The Mystic accused, “Their atrocities are of your doing.”

  “What of it? Are we to resign our fate to the whims of your Confederacy? None dare offend us for fear of losing our lucrative favor. None dare assail us for fear of the powers within our power. We are few. We must be shrewd and ruthless.”

  Dr. Clarity nodded. Though offended by the atrocities committed against his people, he could not deny he would do the same.

  Clarissa Purple the Gentle visited the quarters of Lord Earnestly-Seeking. A spectral, yellowish entity with glowing yellow eyes answered the door. The thing stepped aside and bowed.

  A chilling, resonant whisper called from nowhere, “Welcome, Clarissa, my friend.” The robed Concubine entered the suite. The Phantom servant closed the door behind her. An entity like the servant but towering drifted into the room. Its face was vague yet its three glowing eyes seemed to be “smiling” upon Clarissa. A shapeless tendril somewhat like an arm gestured at the couch. Clarissa and Earnestly-Seeking sat together.

  The woman told the Phantom, “I hope your voyage was pleasant.”

  “Yes. We came here from Golgoth. Your sisters saw to our needs, comfort and simple pleasures. We basked in their lovely singing and were thrilled by their nimble dancing. We flew to this convent in an entomopter: We are amazed by your things that fly.”

  Clarissa giggled. She smiled, “It’s good to see you again.”

  “Yes. The warmth of Clarissa comforts me.”

  “What were you doing on Golgoth?”

  “I was visiting your sisters.”

  Clarissa rolled her eyes. She remarked, “I knew you were visiting. Why were you visiting?”

  “I visited for my pleasure. The Many of One are many friends.”

  The Concubine Priestess apologized, “I’m sorry you’re being kept hidden from the other guests. We’re not ashamed of you.”

  “We are not shamed. The infidels are not our friends. I come answering the call of Lady Dolorous. She calls us all in the Unheard Whisper.”

  Vain Glory made a wandering tour of the immense Convent of Bosky. For all the vastness Concubine Sentinels guarded every hall and corridor. Crowds of Concubine Laborers were too busy to pay the Mystic any heed beyond a passing glance. “The Many of One are indeed many,” Miss Glory was amazed.

  Concubines wearing a light blue version of the hooded, sleeveless dress with a miniskirt crossed the scouting Mystic’s path. Virgin Soldiers who wore blue were the scientists and technicians of the Virgin Army. Were these civilian Concubines scientists and technicians? If so, they were more important than the trifling Girls in Pink. Vain Glory followed them.

  The dozen women in blue entered a corridor guarded by two Sentinels. As Vain approached, the Sentinels stepped in her way and brandished their weapons. “Halt!” one of the little Girls in Red blurted.

  Vain stopped. She reminded, “I am a guest of your mother superior.”

  The Sentinel ignored her, instead commanding, “You are not to proceed. Return to your designated area.”

  “Yes, of course.” Vain Glory departed; confident she found the way to something interesting.

  “You are a palmist,” Dolorous offered her hand. “See me for who I am.”

  The hand of a Penumbran was as long as a Mystic’s but broader by two fingers. Though alien, the hand of Dolorous was as beautiful and feminine as any Ambiguous Clarity had ever seen. As a courtesy, he warned, “I may see more than you wish to share.” The Penumbran female smiled, unconcerned.

  Ambiguous traced the lines of Dolorous’ palm. He heard her coo. She wanted him to see… and he beheld what she showed him. The soothing voice of Dolorous the Enticing uttered, “We of Penumbra are shrewd and wealthy but we are few and vulnerable. The Phantoms are strange and terrible but restless and warmongering. The Concubines are many but many weaklings. The Mystics are wise and mighty. Your wisdom shall command our armies. Your might joining ours shall make us invincible.”

  “To what end?”

  “Everything.”

  Vain Glory continued her stroll about the edifice when she happened upon a Piddling: one of a s
lave race. A Piddling was even smaller and weaker than a human. It was spindly and its large eyes red. It had only three digits per extremity. This Piddling was brown and its black hair was fastened in a topknot. It wore a green loincloth and its flat face and chest were painted in streaks, swirls and spots of yellow, red and blue. The Piddling stared at Miss Glory. When she stared back, he smiled, “I am Mojo.”

  The Mystics were a Great Race and the people of a Galactic Power. It was unbecoming for one of a slave race to address a Mystic as if an equal. Vain Glory quelled her indignation, however, for the demeanor of the little fool seemed genuinely friendly. She politely dismissed him, “I shall not keep you from your duties.”

  “You shall not,” the Piddling grinned.

  Vain arched an eyebrow. She questioned, “Is your duty to loiter?”

  “Miss Glory meanders. She shall not find what is hidden for it is a Seen Unseen.”

  “What?”

  “Lady Dolorous knows your secrets. She entices you with mysteries. Beware the answers. Do not hear the Whisper for it is the voice of Shadow.”

  The Piddling turned to leave. As he departed, Vain called after him, “Wait,” but he kept walking. “Mr. Mojo,” she addressed him by name. He stopped. “What do you mean by all you said?”

  Without turning back around, the Piddling answered, “Beware the answers.”

  “I hear your riddle but not its answer. Am I not to know what it means?”

  “Come, Miss Glory.” The Piddling led Vain into corridors lined with the doors to storage chambers and a laundry room. There were busy Concubine Laborers but no Sentinels here. The Piddling rambled, “The Phantoms conquered us. They sell us to the Penumbrans. Concubines are cheap to make but must be made. We are cheaper.”

  Vain Glory mentioned, “You are the only Piddling I have seen here.”

  “No others here,” Mojo confirmed. “I toil but do not labor. I am a shaman. I am a great shaman. I am worth ten thousand of my people. I am worth a thousand Concubines.”

  “But you are a slave.”

  “Yes.”

  Lady Dolorous called “Clarissa Purple the Gentle” into the room. A hooded, robed Concubine entered… followed by a spectral entity with yellow glowing eyes. Dr. Clarity shot up and drew his wand! “Peace!” boomed the voice of Lady Dolorous. Her voice became soothing as she assured, “A lord of the People of the Third Eye comes in peace.”

  Dr. Clarity snarled, “Peace shall be the extinction of their foul kind.”

  The echoing voice of a whisper countered, “We are the deaths of our enemies. We are a blessing unto our friends.”

  The robed and hooded Concubine vouched, “Earnestly-Seeking is not a savage! It wants to do right by your people!”

  “It?” the Mystic snickered. “Yes, its people are not people at all. They are monsters.”

  Earnestly-Seeking’s eyes and form turned blue. Its whisper felt warm and soft as it uttered, “Male and female are the nature of flesh. We are a spiritual people. I come in the spirit of fellowship.”

  Dr. Clarity slipped his wand back into the sleeve of his robe. “I shall hear you,” he warily assured.

  Mojo brought Vain Glory into maintenance tunnels and onto a network of catwalks among humming machinery. “We are in the eye of a silent storm,” the Piddling told the Mystic. He pointed up at a terminal manned by a Concubine wearing the light blue hooded dress with a miniskirt. “She is one of eight who channel the winds of the storm to swirl around this edifice.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “To summon the Unheard Whisper. It shall come as the Hand of the Mouth to devour those whom Lady Dolorous has called.”

  “Mr. Mojo, I believe you, but why should I trust you?”

  “Miss Glory does not want her people to be slaves. My people are slaves! My people are weak. Miss Glory’s people are strong. I need your strength to fight. I do what I do for my people.”

  “We cannot liberate you.”

  “Yes! You fight the Phantoms who conquered us!”

  “The war is over.”

  “No! The war is unseen but I see it. What if you win? Remember me. Remember my people.”

  “Mr. Mojo, I tell you only to tell you the truth: My Confederacy does not endorse the rebellions of lesser races. Your masters hold legitimate dominion over you.”

  The Piddling sobbed and whimpered. He whined, “My masters shall enslave you too!”

  “Unlikely. My people have thwarted their invasions.”

  “The Whisper shall take you! It is the Hand of the Mouth and shall snatch and devour your wise! All races shall be enslaved! The Great Shadow shall fall upon all people! Its Living Darkness shall live in the darkness of all living worlds!”

  Vain Glory arched an eyebrow.

  “Halt!” two Sentinels happened upon them. A Mystic was faster and stranger than human beings. Vain Glory’s aura swirled around her and hid her in plain sight. She lunged at the women and gave them simultaneous chops to their necks. The Sentinels dropped.

  Vain Glory closed her eyes and calmed her racing mind, feeling for even the slightest chill of danger. She opened her eyes and stared at the bodies sprawled at her feet. She asked the Piddling, “How long until they look for these two?”

  Mojo shrugged, “I do not know their shift.”

  “We must hide them.”

  “Yes. Miss Glory should pick them up.” The human clones were smaller than the Mystic. Vain Glory draped the one body over a shoulder. She tucked the other under her other arm. “This way,” the Piddling led her. Mojo brought Miss Glory to a secluded corner furnished with a cot and a large trunk. Knick knacks and shamanist trinkets were cluttered about. “Lay them gently upon the floor.”

  “We must hide them.”

  “Yes. Miss Glory should lay the bodies gently upon the floor.”

  The Mystic did what was asked of her, though she chafed heeding the instructions of a lesser being. The Piddling picked up a wand topped with tassels and a rattle. He warned, “You must be silent or the spell shall be broken.”

  “What spell?”

  The Piddling grinned, “I shall breathe for a body not my own. I shall hear the thoughts of a lifeless mind. I shall speak with the voice of the dead.”

  “Shaman, you are a necromancer?”

  The Piddling chuckled, “I am many things.” He rattled his wand and mumbled a chant. The one body gasped for breath. It sat up and panted. When its breathing became regular, it touched the side of its goggles-communicator, hailing, “This is Rebecca Red, over.”

  Mojo heard what the ears of the living dead Sentinel heard, “Report, Rebecca Red.”

  “Jolene Red and I have been called away from our post. It’s unlikely we’ll be returning to our shift.”

  “Acknowledged, Rebecca Red.”

  Mojo stopped chanting. The sitting body of Rebecca Red went limp, slouching over its lap. Mojo told Miss Glory, “Concubine Sentinels guard secrets. They are mindful not to know what they are not to know. These two are missing yet their sisters shall not ask why.”

  The Piddling emptied his trunk. He urged, “Miss Glory should put the two in here.” The Mystic tucked the bodies into the trunk. Mojo dropped the weapons in after them then closed the lid. “Miss Glory, return to your companions.”

  “Mr. Mojo, my Confederacy thanks you.”

  “No,” he disbelieved. “Miss Glory is good. Miss Glory is thankful.”

  The Mystic Confederacy was the oldest of the six Galactic Powers. Ambiguous Clarity remembered when there were only three. The Hive was still feuding nations, the humanity of Jingo was still primitive and the humanity of Golgoth was friendly. The Phantoms were yet to be discovered. Unfortunately, the Penumbrans found them first. “We are the deaths of our enemies. We are a blessing unto our friends,” Dr. Clarity remembered Earnestly-Seeking telling him. The Phantom lord offered to commit the army of its people to the defense of the Mystic Confederacy. Lady Dolorous mentioned, “All shall fear to offend your people.” T
he Mystic arched an eyebrow, very much interested in turning what his people feared into the fear of their enemies.

  Once one of three invincible Galactic Powers, the Confederacy was now beleaguered and imperiled. The cult of the Living Darkness was shunned by the Mystics. Conversion to the cult was treason punishable by death. “My people, must I betray you for love of you?” Ambiguous Clarity had much to contemplate. He wept.

  Vain Glory returned to the suite. Big-Big was in the living room playing checkers by himself. She asked the megasaurian, “Has Dr. Clarity returned?”

  Big-Big nodded. He mentioned, “Dr. Clarity is sad.”

  “Why”

  Big-Big shrugged.

  Miss Glory knocked on the door to Dr. Clarity’s room. He answered it, wiping his eyes. “Come in,” he invited. Miss Glory entered and Dr. Clarity closed the door. He asked, “You found something?”

  “Yes. This edifice is a conduit for harnessing negative energy.”

  “Of course: the external particulars imply such a thing.”

  “Lady Dolorous intends to channel the energy for a ritual of summoning. She intends to summon the Unheard Whisper.”

  “This shall be for the ritual tomorrow,” Dr. Clarity deduced. “I am to join Lady Dolorous and her other guests for a rite of divination.”

  “A rite of indoctrination,” Miss Glory corrected.

  The professor scowled, “Are you now a sage? What do you know of such things?”

  Miss Glory arched an eyebrow. She warned, “Dolorous the Enticing means to entice you. Should you hear the Unheard Whisper it shall overwhelm you and enslave you from within. You are then to return to our Confederacy that you may act as a double agent.”

  “Miss Glory, our hostess must know I am a spy if she designs to use me as a double agent.”

  “Perhaps she knew when she invited you. Dr. Clarity, regardless, you were led into a trap.”

  “You discerned all this by wandering the halls and corridors?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Miss Glory, what are you not telling me?”

  “Dr. Clarity, with all due respect, your demeanor is unsettling.”

  “You distrust me now? Am I not the one who asked you to come? I brought you at my own discretion.”

  Miss Glory reminded, “You were alone with Lady Dolorous the Enticing.”

  “Yes.” The professor sighed. He confessed, “I was alone with Dolorous the Enticing. I was soon joined by a lord of the Phantoms. They are my enemies yet they told me all I wanted to hear.”

  “Beware the answers,” Miss Glory quoted the Piddling shaman.

  “Indeed. Miss Glory, you have earned my respect for distrusting me when I was untrustworthy. For the sake of our people I confess that I was enticed by Dolorous the Enticing. The spell is broken. My mind is again sound.”

  Vain Glory smiled. She asked, “What are we to do?”

  “I shall not partake in the ritual! Should it be performed, however, sages of other races shall be converted to the cult of the Living Darkness. They shall return to their people as agents of Shadow. Miss Glory, should we provoke our enemies to violence we are without escape.”

  “Dr. Clarity, you are an agent of our Ministry of Vigilance. I am a Heroine of the Confederacy. We do our duty.”

  “We have Big-Big.” Vain Glory rolled her eyes. “Miss Glory, our friend Big-Big is indeed a brute but I assure you, he is not mindless. He proves wondrously clever when incited to cause trouble.”

  Vain hesitated before mentioning, “I was where I was forbidden to go and forced to kill two Sentinels.”

  “What? We can do nothing when the alarm is sounded.”

  “The alarm shall not be sounded.”

  “Miss Glory, Concubine Sentinels are expendable but they are indeed noticed when missing.”

  “These two shall not be missed.”

  “Why not?”

  “It was a Piddling shaman who led me to where I went. He breathed life into one of the bodies and made it report in its own voice. We hid the bodies where they shall not be found.”

  “We are to trust a slave of our hostess?”

  “The Piddling is a shaman who fancies himself someone important. He resents the indignity of slavery. I trust him to act on his resentment in our favor.”

  Mojo fell prostrate before Lady Dolorous. The towering Penumbran asked the little Piddling, “Where were you?”

  “Milady, Mojo met a lady of the Mystics. She let Mojo walk with her and talk with her.”

  “What did she ask you?”

  “She asked if it was Mojo’s duty to loiter. Mojo told her he was worth ten thousand of his people for he is your shaman. Forgive Mojo, but he said he is worth a thousand Concubines.”

  Sentinels reported seeing Mojo fraternizing with a female Mystic. Lady Dolorous fretted that the little Piddling may have unwittingly divulged information. She questioned, “Did she ask you anything else? Did you tell her anything else?”

  “Yes. She asked if Mojo was a necromancer. Mojo said he was many things.”

  “Why did she ask if you are a necromancer?” The Piddling pointed at the red swirl painted on his forehead. Lady Dolorous laughed. She waved her hand, dismissing her slave, “Mojo, return to your work. Be ready for tomorrow.”

  “Milady, Mojo shall be ready.” As she turned her back to him, he sneered, “I shall be ready.”