Book of Glitch - Chapter 7

All the while I and the junior Elder had been studying her features, Syena had kept her head bowed in apparent deference to the ongoing speech Caleb was giving.

“I realize that we all still have questions,” said the grand duke. “Thankfully, the Cerebras have been hard at work for the last few weeks investigating the circumstances surrounding her departed Overseer’s passing. Professor Reginald Archibald has graciously chosen to step away from his team of the top leading Cerebras in order to share what information they have uncovered so far.”

I had forgotten that the professor had been in attendance at the meeting after seeing him at the funeral that morning. He now rose from his seat amongst the Aeros and approached the front of the gallery to stand before the Elders’ benches.

“Thank you Elders, and thank you great variant leaders for allowing me to relay the information my fellow Cerebras have collected,” spoke the professor. “I realize I come to all of you with distressing information, so I beseech any of you who feel that such news might increase your suffering step out of the room for the time being. No one? All right then, I shall proceed.

“It seems that our beloved king did in fact die of natural causes. Yes, I realize this news carries a great deal of implications, but let us first establish the facts before attempting to decipher the unknown. As I said, the king passed away peacefully without any detectable interference from an external source such as a substance or Shaman enthrall, like so many Elders before her. At his passing, the king was 1,333 Earth years total. Factoring in the years she had lived as a homo-sapien prior to the effects of the glitch outbreak, that made His Majesty approximately one-hundred and thirteen years old in Incantare age.”

Gentle murmurings began to rumble through the gallery, but as they shortly died down to intermittent whisperings it was evident the members of the council sought further explanation.

“Please, Professor Reginald,” implored Caleb. “Do go on. I think we would all like to know what the implications this information brings to us.”

“Well,” the professor continued. “It would appear that the king’s health prior to her transformation was exceptional for a homo-sapien, such so that she would have lived exceptionally long compared to those of her time. This said, it still stands that she did pass within the relative timeframe for the traditional Incantare-variants.”

More murmurs erupted from the corners of the gallery, but this time the professor pushed on.

“Therefore this suggests that our esteemed Elders are susceptible to the average variant life span of a hundred years, relatively speaking,” he concluded.

The unrest had come to a full boil and I have to admit I was troubled by this news myself. I had been well into my forties or fifties at the time of the outbreak. You’ll forgive me I hope, I had since abandoned the habit of keeping track of my mounting years since… Well, needless to say the recalling of my own mortality to/in the hands of time, and I was not alone in this realization.

“Does this not clear up the matter for us now?” asked Chief Hector. “Why should we entrust the Elders with the homo-sapien history and knowledge when they are already so frail and incapable of imparting their knowledge to their own offspring? Or have you all forgotten that Minors are at an even greater disadvantage than their Elder fathers.”

It was then the Minors who had been sitting patiently at the side of the Elders, joined the commotion.

“That is quite enough, Chief Hector,” called Caleb. “Thank you, professor, I think it is clear that we are far from reaching a solution in the Overseer issue. We shall adjourn for the evening and reconvene tomorrow afternoon.”

I was one of the first to exit the gallery, as maintaining a healthy distance from Miasma was at least one way in which I could still manage my mortality/being in a confined space next to a cloaked Miasma did not bring me any sense of comfort. I was however, surprised to find that Syena had already made her way out of the gallery. I found her out in the front garden in an animated conversation with Professor Reginald.

“I do hope it is no trouble to you, Professor,” she said.

“Not at all child, I delight in any opportunity to educate our young minds with the forsaken knowledge of their fellow variants.”

As the professor spoke he had been withdrawing volume upon volume from the large trunk he evidently brought with him wherever he travelled. As the sizable texts levitated above their heads, the professor took his spectacles from the peak of his large cranium and reviewed each cover. Evidently not finding the tote he sought, he sunk his head into the depths of his trunk. I approached just in time to see the enormous codex he raised from the crate and lowered into Syena’s firm arms.

“There now, that should be exactly the text to serve your purpose dear,” he smiled.

“What is it that you have there, Syena?” I asked.

“Oh Abraham, it’s wonderful,” she beamed. “I found myself with a number of questions for the professor after his presentation, and without a second thought he offered to loan me one of his first editions from the original Cerebran studies.”

“It’s nothing at all child, nothing at all,” he smiled.

Professor Reginald was in the middle of repacking his collection and I stood in awe of the tote Syena was effortlessly cradling.

“I don’t imagine you plan to read all of that text in one sitting,” I said.

“Well this evening and into tomorrow morning, yes,” she said. “I was hoping to get through as much of it as I can manage so that I might visit you at your lab tomorrow, Professor.”

“Absolutely, my dear,” he grinned. “I will however be at the South lab until late tomorrow evening, but feel free to wait there for me and help yourself to any other volumes in my collection.”

At that Syena practically squealed as she shifted the codex to one arm and began to shake Reginald’s hand so vigorously, I worried she might dislocate his arm.

“I’m very grateful, thank you Professor Reginald.”

“Not at all dear,” answered the professor. “Must be going though, until tomorrow then.”

With that the professor trailed off with his floating trunk in tow. Syena gazed down at the volume in her arms, admiring the leather binding of the ancient text.

“Perhaps we should find the others, Abraham,” she said without looking up from her treasure.

“Pardon me?” asked a deep voice from behind me.

I turned to face Elder Joshua, who had momentarily escaped his Sham companions.

“Hello Joshua, how did you enjoy that shamble of a conference?” I asked him.

“Well you had quite a bit to say,” he smiled.

“Indeed, I did. But I hope you will forgive me for my eccentricities. I just could not believe some of the sheer nonsense those so-called leaders were allowing us to even consider.”

“You mean specifically, the allowance of a Shaman to sit as Overseer?” he smiled. “I do suppose it is a rather far-fetched concept.”

“Far-fetched? Joshua, you are much too kind,” I rebuffed. “I wonder if such extended time with those females has meddled with your reasoning as it has so transparently shaken Caleb’s. But I do not mean to insult your uncle. He’s doing the best that he can, and after all I was young once.”

He answered me with a shy smirk.

“Yes, and I see you also have a friendship blossoming with that sweet girl, Lucretia,” I continued. “I do hope the two of you are-”

“Actually old man, Lucretia has been visiting with Miasma from Nepal for the spring,” he interjected. “The king’s passing was an unhappy affair to come so close to the end of her holiday, but I’m sure you saw how much she relies on senior sister. I trust Miasma’s company will help with her healing.”

All the while, Syena had been watching patiently as I exchanged niceties with the junior Elder. But I was not foolish enough to believe that the boy had come to check in with me, and took note of the seventeen peeks he made over my shoulder at the young Stonie standing behind me. 

“Forgive me, miss,” he said. “I fear that I have been remiss in not properly introducing myself. My name is Joshua, I am Grand Duke Elder Caleb’s nephew, but I hope you won’t hold that against me.”

She giggled and he grinned a little wider.

“No, of course not Elder Joshua,” she answered. “My name is Syena, Field Marshal Basal’s youngest and only daughter, so pleased to meet you.”

He appeared to wince at her formal address, but it was a momentary falter in his composure and the girl didn’t seem to notice.

“Is this your first time in London?” he inquired. “I see, I hope you will find a chance to explore it, there are so many relics from the age of homo-sapiens that I trust you will appreciate. And I see you have already become acquainted with the professor. He clearly wasted no time unloading one of his historic volumes onto you.”

Syena had briefly forgotten her tome, but now her joy seemed to flow anew.

“Oh yes, he was gracious enough to allow me to scavenge his personal travelling collection and offered to meet with me tomorrow evening to discuss it,” she beamed. “Do you know the professor well?”

“Absolutely, Reginald and I are very good friends. I spend most days at his lab or in some corner of the Cerebran Towers,” he explained. “I enjoy any chance I can to further their studies and I delight in spending time with such exceptional minds.”

The two continued to discuss their shared passion for learning and exchange notes on a great deal of Cerebra researchers, and I am not too proud to say I did not understand the majority of their conversation. They were enjoying one another’s company so greatly, I chuckled to myself about the codex that would go untouched this evening while the two would chat.

“Sweet, dear Joshua not you too,” trilled a whiny, female voice.

I involuntarily jumped at the sight of that lascivious Sham studying the new friends from behind my shoulder. Syena instinctively stepped across Joshua to pull me behind herself.

“Miasma, Lucretia, I’m sure you remember Abraham’s good friend here,” he said. “This is Syena. Syena, this is my new aunt, Madame Shaman Miasma and her junior sister, Lucretia.”

Despite his attempt at establishing diplomacy, Miasma sneered at the young Stonie as she walked around her to stand beside Joshua. Lucretia rejoined her sister, with a slight frown.

“Joshua, we just spoke to your uncle and he agrees that we should not waste a moment in making our way to the reception,” she whined.

The young man nodded his assent, without effectively shielding his disappointment.

“Syena, will you be attending the gala this evening?” asked Lucretia. “That is a lovely dress by the way.”

Syena softened her demeanor toward the younger Sham—she was no doubt reflecting on her own father’s counsel.

“Please forgive my sister, she has not had the best experience with Stonies,” the young Sham explained. “But I can’t imagine such a lovely girl as yourself being anything other than delightful.”

Syena glanced over at me for apparent reassurance, but I was just as dumbfounded as she appeared. She politely nodded/bowed her head to the other girl rather than verbalize her acceptance of the complement.

“I do hope you won’t allow my sister’s cruel sense of humor to prevent your joining us later this evening,” inquired Lucretia.

“Thank you Miss Lucretia,” answered Syena. “Unfortunately, I will not be attending the reception as I have a great deal of reading to get through. So while I do appreciate your invitation, for now I must decline. However, if I manage to wade through the text at a fast enough pace I might come for-”

“Come now, Lucretia,” Miasma whined at her side. “The girl says she will be occupied this evening. No need to dwell on this lost opportunity to watch a Stonie attempt to act civilized amongst the classier variants.”

Lucretia bowed her head and followed as her sister stormed away.

“Looking forward to our next meeting, Abraham,” the senior Shaman sneered.

“Not on your life, witch,” I hissed.

Joshua stepped over to Syena, who was standing as still as stone and watching every move the Sham made.

“I am sorry Abraham,” he said. “And Syena, I-”

“Joshua, don’t dawdle,” screeched Miasma. “Let’s not keep Caleb waiting.”

The young man huffed and nodded toward his pest.

“Perhaps I will see you tomorrow?” he asked.

Syena relaxed her expression before responding.

“Perhaps,” she smirked.

And then the party of three returned to the gallery, leaving Syena and me to search for her family. We did not have to hunt through the grounds for long. The majority of attendants at the council meeting were Elders and their collective shunning of Stonies, even those in their service, were kept at a distance. We eventually caught site of Phit who had been chasing the same Aero female who had been bounced around during the chaos at the meeting. We made our way toward him and I peeked down at my shoulder at Syena.

“What’s on your mind?” I asked.

She clutched the antique codex closer to her chest before looking up at me with a grin.

“I was just wondering if the Madame Sham was present at the printing of this,” she winked.

I beamed down at the dear girl and her unwillingness to be disheartened.