“But he’s dead, so you’re satisfied, Commander?”

  “I am. It’s not justice the way we would have preferred it, but many people will sleep easier tonight. I have attended too many funerals.”

  Ya-Li rapped the desk called Signet.

  “We agree on that point. My family mausoleum is filling too quickly.”

  “It’s over, President Taron. We may never capture or kill everyone involved in the recent terror, but we have the face of their group. The rest of these bastards will slink away into dark holes. At the very least, we’ll have more reason to celebrate Ascension.”

  “Yes. When Huryo shines through the rings, it will definitely take on a greater symbolic value. Thank you, Commander, for everything.”

  “It has been my great pleasure.” They shook hands. “Oh, and on a personal note, I wish you the best with your plans for Hotai. You’re doing important work at a critical time.”

  “I do what I can. Thank you again, Commander.”

  When Kloon left the office, escorted out by Burr Sheong, Ya-Li melted into this chair. His theatrical face disappeared. He turned to Weeb, who listened to the assessment without a word.

  “You don’t believe it,” Weeb said. “That’s not relief I see.”

  “Amayas said Ryllen still had a role to play in the relative timelines. He can’t cross the divide again if he’s dead for good.”

  “What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know. The entire setup makes no sense. Who sentenced him to one of those ponds?”

  “Could Shin Wain have done this? You asked him to see if he could deal with the situation up there.”

  “No. The fire took place two standard days ago. I talked with Shin yesterday. He’s alive, Weeb. I don’t know how, but he’s alive. Every instinct tells me it’s so.”

  “In spite of all the evidence.”

  “Yes. Maybe there’s some kind of connection because we’ve spent so much time with the Splinter. Remember, he used it to cross the divide because he has no counterparts out there. I can’t put it into words. It’s as if he’s everywhere and nowhere. When the Splinter sings to me, I feel like it’s singing to Ryllen, too.”

  “What does Bonju have to say about it?”

  Ya-Li shrugged.

  “Nothing. He’s not with me, and I don’t see him. But I think I know where he might be. It’s a place I’ve been putting off going.”

  Weeb pulled on his pipe and offered it to Ya-Li, who refused.

  “How about we brighten the mood, my friend,” Weeb said. “Let’s get a handle on our situation. We’re two days from Ascension. Operation is running smooth. There’s no terrorist chatter. We’ll be conducting the first test of the platform in about three hours. Dead or alive, Ryllen Jee can’t do a thing to mess this up. And, to top it all, you are going to have the Honored Miss Dani Tau on your arm for the big celebration. Maybe, just maybe, the future Honorable Mrs. Taron? Won’t that shake up the social scene?”

  Weeb always knew how to spin the moment.

  “A good message, Weeb. Well-played. I’m going to take two hours at the house. There are things I need to do. I’ll return in time for the platform simulation.”

  Ya-Li glanced to his office doors as his personal guard entered.

  “Ah, Burr! There you are. I’m heading home.”

  “Very good, sir. And excellent news about the madman.”

  “Good news. Yes.”

  If only he could believe it was true.

  Once home, Ya-Li went into the library and locked the doors. He poured a glass of plum saak and retrieved the Splinter from the vault.

  “We only have to hold on for two more days, and the rest will be a foregone conclusion.”

  He massaged the cube until the eight spikes appeared to follow the touch of his fingers, and their melodies filled his mind. He searched across the divide for any sensation that might convince him of RJ’s fate. No such luck.

  All he found were the hearts of his counterparts breaking, and the lifeforce of one diminishing.

  He didn’t want to go there, though Ya-Li knew he owed it to the old man. Bonju warned him not to put it off, that Myka would not recover this time.

  Ya-Li finished the plum saak and closed his eyes.

  There. A violin playing. Ocean waves crashing.

  I didn’t know he lived so close to the shore.

  Ya-Li looked inside the one-room hut.

  Myka lay on his side wheezing, naked above the waist. A ceiling fan burst at full speed. Ya-Li didn’t recognize the fisherman. He was horribly thin, barely more than a skeleton.

  “He called for you hours ago,” said Bonju, who sat in a chair at the foot of the bed. “He hasn’t spoken since. He hasn’t had the strength to look across the divide in days. It’s miraculous he survived this long. No medicine, no attendants. He will die alone and forgotten, but for us.”

  That’s when Ya-Li saw the boy standing in the back corner, tears in his eyes, violin at his side. There were no halo effects or distortions. It was as if all three physically gathered in Myka’s home.

  “Could he have been saved if we were there?” Ya-Li said.

  “It’s a moot point. He is more than ninety years old and dying of a wasting disease beyond the scope of his world’s medicine. If not this, it would be something else. Mortality is a given among most.”

  “How long does he have?”

  “Minutes. Days. Who’s to say? He doesn’t want to leave us. He only just began to know us in the last decade of his life. He lives apart from his people because we were his people.”

  Ya-Li drew close to Myka. The old man’s hair was gone but for a few threads. Ya-Li laid his hand where it might caress the man’s scalp, though touch was not possible. Still, he felt the sensation of another human being a breath away.

  “I gave him a free pass to watch me make love to a woman for the first time. It was less than two weeks ago. I think he had a good time being a voyeur. The decline has happened so fast.”

  “Not for him,” Bonju said. “Remember the relative differences in our timelines. Your exhibition might seem recent. For Myka? It was months ago.”

  “What now? Sit and wait for the end?”

  “No, Ya-Li. It’s fair to say goodbye and return to your life. He’ll never speak again. You’ll know he’s gone the next time you reach out and he’s not there.”

  Ya-Li looked at Sebu.

  “How long have you been playing for him?”

  “I come when I can. They’re always watching me these days. I don’t believe the elders trust me anymore.”

  “Why? What’s happened?”

  “I haven’t composed for them in months. I don’t want to compose for them. I don’t want Myka to leave.”

  “You will still have the two of us, Sebu. We’ll help you through all your struggles. If this is too much of a risk, leave us and focus on your compositions.”

  The boy snarled. “They’re not being fair. I hate them.”

  Sebu turned his eyes toward Myka and held a wondrous stare before he dissolved.

  “I’ve never heard him use that word before,” Ya-Li said.

  “The pressures are mounting. He’s a child, less equipped than you or I were at his age. We are in good part to blame, of course. Our ability to control our lives and those around us tears away at the security his elders provided.”

  “His elders run a cult. They will never allow him to make a meaningful decision.”

  “When he comes of age, Sebu will decide the best course for his life. We can show him alternative points of view, but we must be careful not to pressure him.”

  “I want him to have a life of worth. He deserves the chance to rise above circumstance, as we did.”

  “This may be true, Ya-Li, but it has to be his decision. Remember, all paths lead to the same end.” He pointed to Myka. “We certainly hope to exit this life with more dignity and peace than Myka, but we might not be able to control it. I know you’re in the midst of important preparations, Ya-Li. Return to them. Know that Myka has had a good life, on balance. He lived long and experienced much.”

  Ya-Li opened his eyes and stared into the Splinter.

  “He lived long, but he didn’t experience enough. Not even close. You and I are going to change all that.”

  He set the Splinter close to his ear and listened to the music.

  PART FOUR

  WHAT REMAINS

  “Is death really such a bad thing?”

  “Hard to say. I’m still waiting for a full report.”

  28

  Sea of Nam

  Huryo

  R YLLEN AWOKE ON HIS SIDE. He heard the low grumble of an engine and fish sizzling in a pan. A cabinet slammed shut. Daylight entered through tiny portholes. He lay beneath a threadbare sheet, which covered to his shoulders. The last time Ryllen saw the world from this position, a wall of fire prepared to consume him and a fatal flash peg entered his chest. And then? The abyss. The dark pit from which he normally returned after ten or twelve minutes.

  Yet he couldn’t remember his latest trip into that black hole. More to the point, Ryllen felt refreshed and invigorated.

  He smelled his hands and detected the faintest evidence of smoke. So it wasn’t a dream.

  Where?

  He stared at the woman who flipped fish on a small griddle. Buxom was a kind word. She was bald, broad-shouldered, wide-jawed, and traces of facial hair suggested a man. Her chest proved otherwise. She wore a beige two-piece in a thick fabric with many pockets.

  “You’re awake then,” she said without facing Ryllen. “Good thing I didn’t take no bet. You’d a’ cost me five points to the next haul.”

  Ryllen rose. “Where am I?”

  “I’d a’ say far from home, but you don’t got one no more.” She pointed to the floor. “Reach on down n’ try them on. They fit. If the shoes give you trouble, I’ll scratch up a pair of bilties ’til dock.”

  He threw back the sheet. “We’re on a boat?”

  “A bright one, you are.”

  He met the woman’s eyes, blue and weathered. She scanned him. Halfway down, she winked.

  “Don’t you worry. Long as your tool works, you’ll make your way dock to dock. A fine one like you’d a’ pull ten coins a pump.”

  Was she being funny? Ryllen didn’t know what to make of her. Was it possible the abyss was just a holding area? Had he graduated to a permanent home to live in death forever?

  Ryllen tried on the clothes, which were an olive match to the woman’s ensemble.

  “I’m confused. Who are you? Where am I? The last thing I remember, I was dying in a pond. I was …”

  “Long over, Friend.” She laughed, but a wheeze interrupted. “See what I done there? Scroll humor. Irony. Here, we use names. Mine is Juri Din. Call me whatever you please, but never JD. Last man done it betrayed me to the constable. And for what? Killing his brother. Man deserved worse. He begged before I done him in.”

  “My name is …”

  She raised both hands. “Not the old one. Captain Benn will sort you. Meantime, how you go for prim? I like my vinegar to the side.”

  She plated a wide flatfish with a golden crust. Ryllen didn’t realize how hungry he was, but his stomach sent up a proper shout.

  “Best you go without the vinegar,” she insisted. “You’re pale for a Randall. Been three days without food, you have. Take and eat. When you’re done, meet us topside. We’ll be pulling the nets afore long. Could use your help.”

  He accepted the plate. “Where are we, Juri?”

  “Sea of Nam, trawling northeast along the migration circuit, a hundred kay from next dock, more or less.”

  “Huryo?”

  She chuckled. “Look around. Ever see an assbackward tub like this on Hokkaido? Eat your prim. We’ll be topside.”

  Juri threw on a wide-brimmed putan and clambered up the narrow stairs, leaving Ryllen alone in the cabin. She was right: The cabin and its décor looked like an exhibit in a Pinchon museum for ancient maritime traditions. Early colonization style, for sure.

  He took a seat and stared at the fish. He wanted to swallow it whole, but for the nagging reality that the last food he ate was drugged. This time, at least, there were no little green seeds from ganto nuts – the ones that Sela claimed were seasoning.

  Ryllen grabbed the fish, which was warm and greasy. In a fell swoop, the rest of his memory returned:

  The visitor that last night at the pond. The voice from overhead.

  Lan Chua.

  How am I still alive?

  Ryllen consumed the prim in four bites, his hunger turning ravenous. Drugged or not, it was perfection. Not as sweet and tender as the best Kohlna, but better than anything he experienced since setting foot on this wretched moon.

  None of it made sense. He was destined to spend weeks, if not months, in that pond. The man responsible for sending him there, Lan Chua, seemed intent on burning Ryllen alive.

  He craved answers, but dare he trust anyone on this boat to provide them? Three days, Juri said. They preserved him unconscious for three days, no doubt drugging him with something far more intense than the Scroll’s special sauce.

  He heard footsteps above and along the ship’s starboard side.

  Voices. Distinct enough to make clear: At least two men plus Juri.

  He covered his head with a putan and opened the cabin door. Ryllen stepped out onto the deck and felt the sun bearing down on him for the first time in weeks. A warm, discordant breeze cut the air enough to lessen the humidity. Calm water stretched to a distant shore. No clouds disrupted a green-tinted sky. The trawler created a gentle wake as it pulled huge nets which dragged just under the waterline. The motor rotated with a series of whooshes, the sound of ancient machines ill-equipped for efficient fuels like Carbedyne.

  Otherwise, it might have felt like Hokkaido. He once traveled on the great oceans aboard Lan Chua’s private yacht with Kai Durin at his side. So little to fear back then ...

  “What you think?” Juri said, lugging a pail aft.

  “Calmer than the oceans back home.”

  “I were asking about the prim. Can I fry up a mean slab or what?”

  “Oh. Yes. Very good. I was starving.”

  “Glad to satisfy. Next meal you eat on the Hannah Lux, you’ll earn it. Same goes tomorrow, and so on.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She set down the pail.

  “Still in a fog, are you? No matter. You’ll see to the point of it.” She looked up toward the bridge. “Captain, the snake’s outta the hole. He’s all yours.” She leaned in and whispered. “You’re a lucky one. Be glad where you are. And, oh, if you’re ever up for a quick pump, I’d be happy to check out your tool.”

  Her breath was as unsightly as what was left of her teeth.

  The Captain descended the ladder. He was a small man, his taut-leather face shaded by his putan. He extended a hand.

  “Benn Noor. Welcome to my crew.”

  Ryllen offered his hand and they shook, though he must have telegraphed his confusion. The Captain scratched at his paltry, greying beard.

  “I know,” Benn said. “Many questions. I’m not a curious man, so I don’t care for mysteries. Step this way, and we’ll talk.”

  Captain Noor sounded like a learned man, his accent polished and far removed from Juri’s heavy dialect. They stood together at the stern. Noor pointed to a hazy land mass.

  “Our world. We trawl the sea and bring back our haul. We visit twenty docks on our rotation. Two hundred fifteen kay along the coast. We earn fair market for our haul, buy replacement trax bars, and return to the sea. It’s a quiet life. Even monotonous at times. But it’s our way, and now it’s yours.”

  “How did I get here?”

  “A long journey, by the telling. You were imprisoned in a pond near Corvaal’s Bay on the far side of Huryo.”

  “Far side?”

  “Oh, yes. Where we are now, if you dug a tunnel through the moon, you’d come out in Quanteel. Your pond was set to fire but you were rescued. For reasons unexplained, your rescuer felt the need to convince everyone you were dead. I suspect you have great value to those in power, but I wish to know none of it.”

  “I’m in exile?”

  “Exile. Escape. Retirement. Many ways of examining. For anyone who crews with the Hannah Lux, this is justice. You see, we have two things in common: We are all criminals and we are all victims. The pond system is inhumane, no matter the sins of the prisoners. For fifty-five years, the Hannah Lux has provided refuge for victims of the ponds. With you joining, we are a crew of four, but the numbers were larger once. Also smaller for a time. The man who sent you to us must have outstanding contacts to learn of this boat.”

  “What else were you told?”

  “Only that you are extremely dangerous. Therefore, you will fit in with my crew. You may have been told we will be retracting the nets before long. Mee Ahn is my first mate. He’ll show you what to do. First, we need to find a name for you. Whatever you brought, leave it behind. How would you like to be known?”

  The new reality tried to settle in, but Ryllen couldn’t let go.

  Was this it? The end of his adventure? Did all those years of war, love, and sacrifice peter out on this trawler, pulling fish from the sea on the desolate back side of Hokkaido’s moon? He had no business here. He was meant for more. He was meant to fight, to kill, to lead. And what of the crew? These Huryans knew nothing of what lay out there, far beyond the system.

  I crossed a universe. I can live forever. I don’t deserve this.

  “I was born in a lab on Earth. They changed my name when I was adopted. My birth name is the only thing that’s pure about me.”

  “Is that what you wish to be called?”

  “Why not? My name is Royal.”

  “Oh. Quite grand for a child of unnatural birth.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Do you wish to tack on a family name?”

  “I don’t have one, so there’s no point.”