CHAPTER 2

  Nine months later, far from the naked boy and the twin cities of Wordheal and First, in fact on the other side of Nameless, spanning the great, empty lengths of the northcontinent’s plains, on the northern shore of the sea called Mesogaen, there was a megacity. Not the tall, ostentatious cities one sees out at the set of the sun, or even in rise on Red Isle. Instead, Ovon had been designed with the charm of the old in mind. It sought ground to cover, not air to invade.

  At the end of a long mountain range that began to its north and wound down around its rise edge sat Ovon, and it was orbited by two giant, pearl, perfectly circular walls.

  Really, orbited.

  Day and night these walls would turn, one opposite the other, as if giant gears. The inner exactly twelve miles from the outer, and both blazed a reflected light that could be seen nearly halfway to southcontinent on the black, wine waters of the Mesogaen. For this reason was Ovon also called "Second Sun.”

  That day the inner wall was stilled to allow passage from the outer city. One of those travelers, who sat in the backseat of a shining motor hansom speeding through the dark of the wall’s tunnel, was Valens the Lesser. This Valens was aggravated.

  Rancorous thoughts rolled his mind. Fifteen years. Fifteen years of constant action against that blasted island-metropolis. In six months, I make progress of which the previous Lesser could only have dreamt, and they call me back? Olde Honour could have fallen weeks ago!

  Valens removed his black, skeel glasses, pinched his nose. A headache.

  The true sun reappeared as his hansom emerged from the wall. Valens looked at his driver, a standard hundreder. White uniform, helmet, purple sash, the purple, open-fanned twelve feather pin of the citizen shined on his breast. Valens fingered his own, tucked away in a pocket. A black visor covered the eyes. Equal in Ovon. Iris does not matter. Valens grunted, returned his glasses.

  Unique to individual hundreders were the strange symbols, one of twelve, etched into the center of their helm. Cal’s, he thought. Unlucky fool. This one was of low ranking, maybe even fresh, for Valens sensed no shine playing off his gauge, his inner eye. Anyone exposed to Cal’s shine, even when faded, would be fundamentally changed. This one had never been under her standard. The Aranaeifer. I hate spiders.

  Soon field and farm common between the first wall and the city proper gave way to paved, wide lanes, and waves of brick, stone and glass.

  "Sorry we’re late, sir,” the hundreder said. The first he’d spoken since picking Valens up.

  "I was late, not you.”

  "Still,” the man coughed, "sorry, sir.”

  "They’re not going anywhere. It won’t reflect on you. I will make sure they know where lies the fault.”

  "Sir, I didn’t mean--”

  "Please shut up now.” Valens wondered how a grown man felt taking the harsh commands of a fifteen year-old.

  Another hour passed before they’d pushed their way into the city’s real center and the dense sounds of urban life did nothing to help Valens' head.

  House, the civic center, museum, temple (not matter what O said) glowered in the distance as the hansom pulled up before Valens' building. He climbed out, waved the hundreder on before entering his home alone. Enough of his precious day would be passed with people he didn’t care for, and he wanted to cherish every second of solitude.

  After entering his apartments, dourly reflecting on what a lonely place it seemed without his books, he tossed his glasses onto a nightstand and collapsed onto the fresh sheets of his bed.

  "Pillarshakers,” he cursed, knowing the longer he lay, the harder it would be to get up. He showered, donned fresh clothes, taking full advantage as a Lesser to appear before the HeavenEyes dressed however he wished. A black shirt tucked into black pants. A black vest. He liked black. "Let’s get this over with."

  He was out and walking down the steps before he caught the alien feeling of fresh air around his eyes. The horror nearly rendered him unconscious. He returned to his room and took up his glasses with a trembling hand. Trembling. Pathetic. Soon he was walking down Pala street toward House.

  House, like the walls, was a giant white circle, and contained the segmented homes of Ovon’s Servants, the HeavenEyes. No matter where you were in Ovon the grim building leered down from the highest hill. In fact, House was the city’s very center. J, A and V adored symmetry, and it was reflected all across the megacity they had conquered then redesigned.

  Valens walked past stoops and alleyways, children playing and the muffled sounds of women yelling at men and men yelling back. On the wall of an small inn called the Sedewick he noticed a bright piece of graffiti: "To whomever shits on our stoop, STOP! If you don’t, a rageful Oski gut you!” Oski. Some Oldword epithet for N. Even the customarily blissfully ignorant Ovoni had heard of N, if only via the tacky novels based on tales of his grim violence. Some stories were too horrifying to entirely suppress, and Valens had to give the HeavenEyes credit for letting the truth be diluted by pulpy rags. He hoped N wasn’t in House. "Creepy bastard.”

  He crossed Aven, the street that ringed House, took his time ascending the three sets of stairs.

  Each of these ended at a flat, three hundred-yard expanse between flights, featuring its own special park that ran the entire circumference. Annoyingly these were packed with citizens enjoying the warm 7day sun. The first was many orchard trees of all sizes. Nut trees, bushes of large, ripe berries, oranges, apple and warm grassy hills.

  C could grow anything, anywhere.

  The second, an elaborate network of clear pools and fountains. And in these the sweaty, chortling masses were content to splash and race and exercise.

  The last was empty. Flat, dull brickwork. By far the least popular. The nonsensical symbolism of all this eluded him.

  Approaching the massive doors, each a hundred feet tall, he saw two hundreders flanking each side, almost invisible in white uniforms against white walls. As if monsters need guards. They moved from the edges of the doors to the center, remained until he was just before them. The one to his left was C's, the right J's. Valens pulled at his gauge and his great inner eye opened to reveal the glinting purple iris. Two distinct, latent shines burned on these, a testament to the power the HeavenEyes. It had to have been months since either had been under a standard.

  "Valens,” he said lazily before adding with a grunt, "Lesser.”

  "Welcome Home,” the hundreders said as one. The giant doors began to silently part.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  A straight, long and uninteresting walk from the entrance to the council room at House’s center. As Valens walked, he saw the doors to many other chambers, each its own labyrinth that eventually terminated at one of twelve rooms. Some of these were open, and through them Valens saw bright, flashing lights, low simmering lights, or no light. All were filled with something fantastic, of this he had no doubt. Fountains, a zoo’s worth of rare animals, oil paintings from ceiling to floor, row upon row of gleaming marble statues.

  Pretentious lot.

  In the lonely hall the crisp click of Valens' shoes on uber polished floor brought a sense of order, and surprising relief to his headache.

  Eventually the large circular council room opened around him, revealing the great contradiction. All round the borders of the otherwise plain room sat twelve large chairs all dyed various shades of purple. No kings indeed.

  The only thing that set each apart from its neighbors were the simple, vexing, white symbols carved in each’s splat.

  Less than a year before, Valens had stood here and received his commission. Then it had been deep night, and the domed ceiling had been black with sprinkles of white stars splashed across it. He assumed the magnified images of distant nebulae were connected with A’s shine, but he didn’t dare attempt data collection. Not in the maw of the monsters. Now the dome was the same lapzu sky blue color of Sebi eyes.

  Valens sat for a time. They were late, not he.

  Time became time and a half, and with great discipline he stood still for at least half an hour. A could see him. If A could then J might. He'd show them his resolve.

  An hour later he hissed, "Pillarshakers."

  Someone giggled.

  He turned to find the slender body of the Aranaeifer, Cal, leaning against the doorframe. How long had she been there?

  "Hello Valens.” IV of the HeavenEyes wore a dress in a vivid orange floral pattern that wound its way around her from neck to skirt. She had the face, and figure, that most would consider pleasing. Her head was round and covered in short chestnut hair that sat atop a wide forehead and chubby cheeks that reminded Valens of a chipmunk. Though only fifteen, less than half Cal’s age, Valens stood well above her five feet. The bright green eyes common to all from the lands around Old Honour, eyes he’d seen so often in the berserker madmen of the Shields, roved across him greedily.

  Cal pushed off of the wall, stepped to him, her petite hands clasped behind her back, her bright teeth flashing through a smile. "You don’t need your silly glasses in here, cutie.” She winked. "Take 'em off.”

  Taking advantage of the protection of his glasses, Valens glanced at her waist. She was not wearing her spools. Not that it mattered. Weapons or no, no one was fool enough to challenge a HeavenEye openly.

  Not yet.

  "I prefer them on,” Valens said as wanly as possible in a desperate bid to avoid the woman’s obsession with innuendo.

  Cal wagged a finger. "But how can I know what you’re looking at? You could be bad, I’d never be the wiser.”

  Laughter from the hall was a merciful salvation until he saw that it found its source in Dom, suddenly there, behind Cal, affecting the most exaggerated, childish cackle. Two! Valens' mind screamed. Two of the Three! Valens cast a furtive glance around, surprised to find a prayer against the final fiend’s presence on his tongue.

  "Guy’s been knee-deep in barbarian blood and shit for months, you tiny psycho!” Dom laughed. "The last thing he needs is a love-sick filly. Eh, Valens?”

  Cal twirled, her dress spinning around her, snarled, "Did anyone ask you?”

  Dom’s rumbling laugh caused him to stumble back against the chair marked II. As in a dream, when a thing happens so disjointed from all things previous and subsequent it nearly wakes the sleeper from sheer absurdity, Cal was no longer next to Valens, but stood just under Dom, trembling with rage. Valens' great inner eye had seen nothing. Not a flicker. They use shine like I breathe.

  Dom, more than a foot taller, stared down into Cal’s green eyes with his own grays, matching joy for hate, his chiseled face was covered in black stubble. Everything on Dom from his pointed boots to his thick hair was black, shining. A broad-chested rokkae of old Ovon come to life. Where are the gray-eyes from? 'Elevated Island’? More nameless, faceless barbarians. I wonder where V found him. . .

  "Children! Enough!” V cried as he entered the room, split the two they-follow-in-silences apart. "Always arguing! Will you ever mature? Curse your insipid bickering!” A was right behind him.

  Two of the Akarat, the three called after the Oldword for the shades who dwelt in deepest Maw. And two Founders! Valens' hope against hope that his audience would be only with J, from whom his summons had issued, was blown all to maw.

  If not for G, V would’ve been the oldest of the HeavenEyes. The hair tufts on both sides of his head stuck out like white shoots, the bald between perpetually concealed by a gray ivy cap that matched his twead suit. His red eyes glinted as he chortled, "Good to see you again, lad.” V’s shine was like Valens' in that it was comprehensive. Unlike Valens', V’s was infinitely more personal, and its limits were unknown to the Lesser. Despite this uncomfortable data gap, Valens felt an uncharacteristic fondness for the man.

  "Everyone, sit,” A ordered in a voice not unlike the mesmerizing harps and sharp guitars the Millenislanders loved so. "J, T and N will arrive presently” Affectionately called "Eyes” by J, Valens knew nothing, literally nothing, of A’s shine. Not the barest hint of even the barest hint in the approved histories. "J the Breath, A the Eyes and V the Mouth.” The three founders had burst onto the Ovoni scene some forty years previous, wrest it from its rulers, and re-established the great ancient name of Ovon on the world stage.

  The opposite of her protégé Cal, A was tall with a long, thin body and stick limbs. Her reddish blonde hair ended at her waist, braided today around one shoulder. Combine this with sharp facial angles and bright yellow eyes and she seemed more a creature of the deep starry night the myths called the Lobra Field.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  "I thought only J would be present,” Valens was calm, but his mind screamed curses at hearing N was home. "I apologize.”

  "Dude’s unhappy to have an audience,” Dom laughed as he and the others found their respective chairs. "We are often busy with, y’know, running a mega city-state. But never busy enough to entertain our friends.”

  "Indeed,” J said brightly as he simply, suddenly, was in the chair marked I. A gentle wind, a breath, had blown against him at the final Founder's appearance, and Valens pawed stupidly at the back of his head. The air seemed to convulse, his ears popped. J crossed one leg over the other, "Valens has nearly won Olde Honour. I was reluctant to call you back.” J’s jet-black hair was combed straight back, perfect, as always. Ovoni of all ages fawned at even a glimpse of the HeavenEye, though he was nearer fifty than sixty. Dom looked a rokk, but J looked the king of rokkae.

  Valens took a slow breath in, calming equal parts fear and anger. Pale blue eyes. . .Slavers. . .tyrants.

  "Cal was right,” J continued. "No need for glasses here. We’re all friends.”

  Valens suppressed a gag.

  "Forgive me, Valens,” said the first HeavenEye as his eyes seeming to dance through memories. "You remind me so much of one I barely remember.” He sighed, "Loved that kid.”

  Cal smiled.

  Dom grunted.

  J continued, "What could possibly have to be ashamed of?”

  Valens felt his pulse quicken, his face burn. You little bitch! he cursed himself. Not before these. Not in front of you, blue-eye! "I am not afraid, J.”

  J seemed surprised, his eyes refocused. He nodded to Valens' right, "I wasn’t speaking to you, Valens. Forgive me once again. N, stop being creepy.”

  Another gentle breath on Valens' neck, but this time it remained. In. Out. In. Out. He let his eyes drift sideways until he found N, the masked freak, mere inches from him. They moved. They all moved, and he, Valens, with his eye, saw nothing! Nothing! Monsters. Not people.

  The tiny, shiny, bead eyes of N’s white mask cast Valens' face back at him, and beneath the painted mouth, that day, a deep, red frown, the raspy breath came faster, more pronounced, as if the creature were excited.

  It was Valens could do to remain still. N. Oski. The Histerifer.

  Finally, as if bored, a grunt, probably a laugh, escaped the mask before N turned, the long black robe that covered all but mask hissing as he moved to his chair. The Founding HeavenEyes and their hand-picked heirs. Rokkdamn.

  "Charming,” Cal said with an atypical darkness. "Had your fun, freak?”

  N didn’t reply, only lowered himself into the chair.

  "Can we do this?” whined Dom. "I mean I love to see you all, cept Cal, but daylight’s burning.”

  "T is not here,” V objected. "T’s in House. A decision of this magnitude should be made by as many of us as are Home.”

  "T’s always late, old man. Shaker never does anything but sleep. Might as well be waiting for the Given Heir.” Dom leaned into his chair. "And some of us never leave Ovon.”

  V coughed, and with a smile said, "Impudent whelp.”

  "Don’t get me wrong. I’d never leave if I didn’t have to. Ovon is soft, sweet, just like its women.”

  "Pig,” spat Cal.

  "Oink.”

  "That,” coughed J, "is why we are twelve and not one. Someone's always Home. We’ll wait.”

  From behind, N let out another grunt that might have been a laugh.

  "Dom’s a moron, and a pig, but for once he has a point,” said Cal. "T may decide he doesn’t want to come. He may just want to sit in the corner of his room and pine after his sea rokk.”

  "He will come,” A said dryly.

  For the next minute Valens stood uncomfortably, waiting for someone, anyone, to speak. The others didn’t share his disquiet. Each that he could see seemed to fold into him or herself. J stared down at his hands, watching his fingers wiggle. A stared ahead, her eyes almost imperceptibly rocking back and forth. Dom pretended to snore. Or not. The man was well and truly asleep!

  For Valens, like any Ovoni, the HeavenEyes were more forces of nature than people. Hurricanes. Tidal waves. HeavenEyes. It was unsettling whenever he saw them incarnated. In horrible paradox it both diminished them and made them yet more frightening.

  Finally, Valens had had enough. "I confess I am confused, J.”

  "Hmm?” J mumbled, taking his eyes off of his hands.

  "My assumption was that only A and V, besides yourself, should be Home at this time of year.”

  J smiled. "Absolutely true.”

  "But if the illustrious Akarat--”

  Cal winked. "Ain’t he cute.”

  "Uh, if all three of the Akarat are here, why not task them? Why wait for me? Certainly, they could accomplish more than I, and in far less time.”

  "Priorities and contexts,” A answered, and she leaned toward J. "I have just returned from Seat. T is on his way. He is brining it.”

  Seat? Valens had heard about the Ovoni station orbiting the world beneath the face of the ruined moon, but had no idea what this had to do with A. "I’m sorry?”

  "Cal, N, or Dom have particular talents,” said V. "With the exception of N, urm, sometimes, clandestine work is not amongst them.”

  "Pierce my black heart, old man!” Dom cried, awake again.

  "As for priorities,” V fired a warning glance at his protégé, "Honour can wait.”

  Honour can wait? As a Lesser, Valens was afforded access to information relating to many of the ops running both within Ovon and away. There was much he was not granted to know, but what he knew for certain was this: the quiet attacks on Olde Honour's infrastructure were heavy investments, decades in the making. The island city had been the HeavenEye's obsession. What changed this?

  A shriek from the hall as T, Gaunt and mirthless, slid into the room, eyes drooping, in a robe and pajamas. Sewn into the vest of the robe were four dark blue gems, two on each side, and on his head sat a wreath of woven silver. Above the dark bags beneath his eyes shined the brilliant lapzu sky-blue eyes of the Sebi. His people don’t call themselves the Sebi, thought Valens. Some offshoot people. Same eyes, though. Odd matching tattoos, apparently aborted midway, ringed the sparkling eyes.

  T threw himself against the doorframe. "How will I ever reclaim the Deep Dreamer if I am not allowed to walk the infinite halls of gloomy death-like sleep?”

  Of the twelve, Valens was the most familiar with T, having been discovered among the many southcontinent refugees pulsing through the docks of his parte. T had seen his shine; had been his shin-arts master. Valens hated him. Fortunately T had never cared for him either, and didn’t acknowledge his presence now.

  "How?!” T cried.

  "You must sometimes be awake,” J offered softly.

  "How can I learn from my master without the blessing of gloomy dream?”

  "Bullshit,” Cal spat as T took his seat beside her. "Where’ve you been?”

  A clicked her tongue, "Young lady, language.”

  "Not that you’d understand,” T blubbered, "but I was communing with the Dead Light.” Tears welled in his lapzu eyes. "Or at least trying to!”

  "I don’t waste dreams on fake rokkish shit I just made up,” Dom sat up.

  "Only a fool would insult the Deep-Dreamer.”

  Behind Valens, N grunted.

  Dom smiled, "Deep-Dreamer the one who told you to wear lettuce on your head, too?”

  T’s hand moved to his head, stroked the wreath. "Laurels are never struck by lightning.”

  "I will pay you a thousand deni to watch you put that to the test. I’ll even carry you to the top of a mountain.”

  J put his hands up. "We’re all here now. Let us bring Valens into the light.” He turned to T and said, "Please, friend, give it to him.”

  T stifled another sob, dug through the inside of his vest, and produced a small book. "Taken from a trunk on one of Olde Honour’s shield islands, I’ve forgotten which. My hundreders know how I adore the look of old volumes, and often bring such to me.” He held it out for Valens who slowly, carefully took it. It was old, but not more than a few hundred years. The cover had faded to ugly green-gray and along the binding was pulling away.

  "Go ahead Valens.” J called gently, "Your unique shine will serve perfectly. We almost destroyed the book on the first reading.”

  "Am I to read to you? This is why I returned?”

  J simply stared.

  Valens turned his gaze back to the book, and then ran his shine through the finely honed, microscopic and meticulously carved grooves that spanned the frames and lenses of his glasses. Like all skeel, his glasses held the shine, the grooves channeling it to maximize his innate abilities. The full HUD appeared, displaying a tidal wave of data, pouring it through his inner eye. Quickly, silently, he mapped the route he’d taken to the chamber and extrapolated based on the size of House. Every person in the room, including those behind, were suddenly highlighted, sorted, and then surrounded by a cascade of biodata: temperatures, heart rates, blood pressures, even mood approximations. Why waste a chance to gather intelligence?

  Valens harnessed, focused, turned the shine over and over again until the whole book was his. Then his great inner eye opened, the iris blazing purple in his mind, and this became the matrix through which he could truly, fully see.

  Letters washed across him like water over grass. Somewhere outside himself, as if far in the distance, he heard Cal say, "Adorable.”

  When Valens' eye closed, the light purple hue receding from his glasses, and he’d felt as if he’d been in the book for hours. "Worldheal,” he said with his head cocked. "First?”

  J smiled. "Exactly.”

  Valens struggled for words. "You think, you think that, that. . .What, you think it’s in this place, this Worldheal?” Valens knew the city, and its sister, First, only as distant, irrelevant dots on the far side of map.

  T sniveled, said, "We do not think things. We know.”

  "I’ll tell you what I know, T,” said Dom, "You’re full of shit.” He sat back and scowled. "Wordheal. A whole city of Given.” He smacked his lips disgustedly.

  "You and Given,” Cal quipped, "What’s your deal?”

  Dom’s face darkened, "Cockroaches. Whether the Nozaam floods or Gold withers, Given to the trash compactor. Only decent one is a decomposing one.”

  "The Dead Light has initiates in both cities,” said T.

  "Your cult?” Dom stared. "You’re kidding? In Wordheal?”

  "Of course,” T sniffed. "There is logic yet left in this nightmare world, even among the most barbarous.”

  N grunt-laughed.

  "Then why can’t they get their hands dirty here, you idiot?”

  "I understand that Firsts are narokks,” said A. "Like their sires in Olde Honour.”

  "You all know nothing of the Deep Dreamer. She, the ineffable, the glory, is nothing so base, so. . .so frivolous as a rokk.”

  Valens looked at T, to A, back to J. "This is a shaking joke, yes?”

  J didn’t move, didn’t speak.

  "A myth.” Valens couldn’t tell if he sounded angry or amused, couldn’t tell if he felt angry or amused. "You recalled me from commanding the first successful infiltration against Honour’s Shields to search for Sebi myths?”

  "Ah, I knew he’d be happy about this,” Dom smiled. "I sure as maw would be.”

  "Sebi,” T hissed.

  "Deep-Lizard don’t like Sebi, huh?” said Cal, her head resting on her hand.

  "Deep Dreamer! The Dead Light!”

  Valens opened his mouth, but A cut him off, "Do you believe we would set you upon hunting mirages?”

  "I...” Valens swallowed. "I did not mean. . .”

  "Peace Valens, my beloved Eyes is correct.” J gently pushed out of his chair and began, slowly, to circle Valens. "I understand your skepticism. That skepticism is ideal. If this book is right, we have a window, a time-frame. Assuming you have no issues with prophecy. I certainly don’t. Had you been here when this information first came to light, we’d probably already be done.”

  "When?” Valens asked as J disappeared behind him.

  "Less than a year ago.”

  "A year? That would be enough time for someone to make it set ten times over. Is someone working this already?" He thought it best to soften his tone. "Uh, respectfully?”

  J reappeared. "Always asking the right questions. We’ve indeed already sent someone. We’d hoped to intercept, before our quarry faded into one of the cities or once again from history entirely. That failed. Thankfully our agent was able to set up a net around both Wordheal and First quickly. We are confident it was contained. All that’s left is the hunt.”

  "Who?”

  "No one you know,” Cal interrupted, and Valens noted her irritation.

  "Geta,” J answered.

  Valens had never met the other Lesser, knew nothing of them, save that Geta had been Cal’s ward as he had been T’s. "So, you want me to go to cities on the other side of the world, that I know nothing about, without backup, to search for something that doesn’t exist all while trying to control another Lesser who has probably shaked the whole thing already?”

  J arched a sharp eyebrow. "Without backup? How did you deduce that?”

  "Anyone could sneak around a city. He wanted to look back at N, but didn't. "Anyone can decimate it. You sought me that I may search. Fast, quiet.”

  J rubbed his square chin, placed a hand on Valens' shoulder. "You are near to us, Valens. Very near. Few have demonstrated the control you have so quickly. Only fifteen, right? And already advanced rashin and anushin, all on your own. Amazing. You could sit amongst us quite comfortably.” His voice was paternal, and his eyes gleamed, and Valens was grateful his glasses hid the hatred burning in his own. "This operation, successfully completed, means success for you in ways unimaginable.” J turned, sank back into his chair, waited.

  To sit with the twelve, to make it thirteen, to make policy, to rule Ovon. Refugee to HeavenEye. It was. . .intoxicating.

  "Myths,” said J "are history seen through the glass darkly. Some would worship all in this room as rokkae. Are we?”

  Valens had not heard any of this. Thirteen. "When do I leave?”

  "As soon as you are ready,” V exulted. "I’ve stocked a hansom with every useful book I could find on the twin cities. History, art, politics etc. Plenty to occupy your time on the high roads.”

  "You’ll arrive within a month and a half,” A added, "two if the roads are worse than anticipated. Set is not as civilized as rise.”

  "I could move much faster alone.”

  "Miss out on travelling in style?” Dom laughed. "We are not kindred spirits, man.”

  "Hush boy,” said V. "Valens, you must enter the cities as any other wealthy traveler might. This is essential.”

  "Just look at you beam!” Cal cooed. "Rokk, I could just eat you!”

  "What of the cities?”

  "What of them?” asked J.

  "Should I be able to, uh, sway their leadership, should I avail myself?”

  "If the need arises, use every talent at your disposal. As long as you tie all loose ends.”

  "So, Geta reports to me? If that’s the case, I want credentials. I don’t want a prolonged pissing contest with another Lesser.”

  "Geta is at your command. That will be clearly relayed before your arrival,” A assured.

  "I’ll need access to material on Geta.” Lessers were not permitted to fraternize, Valens had always assumed, to lessen the chances of a coup. It said something how badly the HeavenEyes desired this done that they wanted two to mix.

  "You know as much as I do of Geta, dear Valens,” said Cal. "I promise you that.”

  Valens waited for the laughter, but none came. "Excuse me? Er, I mean, uh, Cal, HeavenEye, I thought Geta served you?”

  Cal pursed her lips. "You thought right. Geta is incredibly gifted but they, if I may be permitted the pronoun, are also incredibly paranoid. Whatever the true nature of their shine is, it involves some transformation rashin or powerful shinasshu illusion, with some kind of mind-control thrown in. Oh, the fit they would throw whenever I would call it mind-control. I never bothered to find out. Oh, don’t look at me like that, your adorable nose all crinkled. Geta came to me in many different forms, and I taught each one of them. Why spoil the fun?”

  J nodded, "We were as intrigued as you Valens, but erred on the side of not driving away a powerful shine-adept. That’s the other reason for your summons. Only you have the unique combinations of abilities to locate both Geta when Geta doesn’t want to be located, and our prize at the same time.”

  From the first day your inner eye opened, this has been the goal. "It will be done.”

  "Wonderful!” J clapped.

  "Excellent!” V laughed.

  "We’ll be in communication as much as possible,” said A. "There are. . . unusual interferences to V’s power coming from set, as with my own. In many cases you will be left to your own discretion. We place the trust of Ovon with you.”

  "Do we all agree?” J asked.

  "Yes,” A said.

  "Indeed,” V said.

  "Sure. Whatever. Have fun, kid. Don’t let Given broads get you down,” Dom yawned.

  N grunted.

  "Of course,” T moaned. "Now. Please. Sleep. Dream.”

  Cal stared at Valens. "I like you, boy, I'll not deny it. The love of my life was at one time as you are. All business. All brooding." She sighed. "I agree.”

  "Go then, Valens.” J’s dull blue eyes, brimming with happiness, nearly ended Valens, for he just barley conquered the urge to attempt ripping J’s brain from his skull. Instead, he nodded and left the circular room in long confident strides, noting the perfect place for a thirteenth chair.

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  An hour later Valens emerged from his building carrying but one satchel. He climbed into the waiting hansom and was greeted by the same hundreder who had chauffeured him into Ovon. They rode in silence as the city faded to fields, soon opening to the wide on the other side of the outer wall.

  "How did everything go, sir?”

  "Very well, thank you. How long will you be with me?”

  "To Ninewell, sir.”

  "Halfway. Excellent.” Valens touched his glasses and, without thinking, almost removed them. "If you don’t mind, I have reading to catch up on.”

  "Not at all, sir.”

  Valens picked up the first book and turned once again to the great eye of his gauge. Twin cities. First. Worldheal. A valley between. Legends. Myths, trash! I will bring you back, even if it means drowning these cities in blood. Valens HeavenEye. His headache was gone.