Marcus Marcus & the Hurting Heart

Chapter One - posted 18th November 2010

I am an optimist; say my prayers, make my offerings, with never a worry that the great Divinities may, even just once, be a little too busy to take heed of me. Why should They ignore me? Nobody else does. My personal wealth matches the economy of many a star system. Not only am I one of the nine Princes controlling En Feshqa – its land, sea, air and surrounding satellite and rocket-ship packed space - I'm also a genuine living legend. Stars! I am famous throughout the entire volume of the Three Zones of Humanity.

So when Kath called to say she needed to talk I was hardly troubled. Four days previously I had given her full security clearance; told her she was free to look around the entirety of my Palace Complex; the galleries, halls, administration block, storerooms, living quarters and every other nook and cranny inside the Palace itself, and likewise explore the outside woodlands, fields, lakes, temples, shrines, gazebos, bothies, sheds, mazes, pathways, even, if she fancied, the seldom used rendition and termination pits. Her clearance was absolute, and doubtless that’s what she wanted to talk about – all the wonders that lesser eyes were barred from viewing.

It was a blustery morning when we met up. We shared a light breakfast and poured a libation to the household deities, most of whom had looked over the Sejan family for centuries. Occasionally, after appropriate prayers and gifts, the household divinities would be asked to accept a new divine personage into their company. The most recent addition being Beatrice, one of the less dramatic goddesses, who was said to look after broken hearts, pathways, and those suffering from rheumatics, hair loss or vertigo. I had placed the little figurine of her, modest in blue cloak and hood, discretely at the back of the little alcove, and she had settled in quickly enough and without any bother

After prayers the palace servants returned to their tasks, whilst Kath and I made our way out into the gusty spring freshness. Being early yet Fierna and Tyinae, the twin stars of the En Feshqa system, were still indulging in their morning embrace: Low in the sky they hung like one great glittery misshapen fruit as Kath and I walked along a path bordered with young swaying, rustling trees. When the path split, Kath took the route that led towards the Queen's Temple.

As we walked I recalled that the Queen of the Universe, the Mother Goddess herself, once visited this very temple. Of course that was many millenia ago, when deities were expected to make temporal visits. Now, they mostly stay on Earth, content to watch over us from a distance, perhaps out of respect for our increased maturity or perhaps because they're too busy doing whatever it is immortal beings do of an eternity.

I asked Kath what she thought about this, but she did not seem to notice my words. After a few more minutes I tried another approach

‘Have you been exploring?’ I asked, my voice a little louder.

‘Yes,’ came her reply.

'See anything interesting?’

‘Yes.’

I smiled encouragingly. Kath smiled back but it was not one of her big smiles.

Kath was a cardiologist who had worked in the Palace Complex for two years, having spent eight years prior to that practicing in one of my public hospitals in Stone City. When I took over my inheritance – a short quarter century ago – hospitals, indeed any kind of medical care, were the preserve of the Lords of the Peninsula who controlled the land and its four million inhabitants on behalf of my family. With my arrival, things changed. I ended the corrupt autonomy of the nobles and re-asserted direct control. The task was easier than expected.

Opposition was limited to old, arrogant, spiteful men who hated each other too much to unite against me. As for their offspring, cold cash, canceled debts and positions of influence in the new regime helped assuage their concerns. Those few, very few, stubborn recalcitrants who continued to oppose me were defeated by the use of threats, black mail and the occasional extra judicial execution. Not that I was untroubled by such rare killings.

One of the first acts of my new regime was to change the laws covering capital crimes. The Lords of the Peninsula had a very simple approach to killing people: A person was allowed to execute another person without trial provided the convicted person's income was less than ten percent of their prosecutor. I replaced this with a system that necessitated a full examination of facts and witnesses for all convicted people. Whilst this was laudable, the delay caused by trials threatened to undermine the early years of my regime, when fast results were needed.

However, whilst my approach to justice occasionally wobbled, there was no doubting my commitment to ending the barbarism involved with judicial executions. The great lords killed people in public; there was no village too small that it did not have its own rendition and termination pit. Under the new laws all the pits were filled in, with the exception of the one beside my Palace Complex. This pit, one of the oldest, was unique in that it was underground, having been constricted for private viewing and select audiences only.

The manner of killing was also subject to regulation. The Lords of the Peninsula had a wealth of techniques and instruments for ending a human life – peeling, cutting, tightening, inserting. By way of compromise and the respecting of tradition, I allowed the ancient ways of killing to remain on the statute books, but in practice death was now by a single bullet to the back of the skull. The day would come though when I would be very thankful that the older bloodier customs remained legally valid. But, I'm getting slightly ahead of myself.

Kath had been taught in the new public schools, studied in Stone City University, and became a leading heart specialist in the city's hospital. Her arrival in my Palace Complex coincided with the arrival of other young men and women, who owed their education, positions and security to the system I had set up. Or rather, if I am honest about it, to the system my vizier If-Dec set up.

Kath had been appointed Medical Chief for the Palace Complex, and soon proved her worth as both administrator and promoter of medical innovations. But it was her laughter that kept my heart and body content. Her quick and easy wit radiated out from her like a beautiful warm and warming light. But not now. Now, her smile was tepid and slight. She said little, just sucked at her lips and kept on walking. After twenty minutes or so of windy silence we came to the low mesh fence that surrounded the Consecrated Lake.

‘Do you really believe the swans can tell the future?’ Kath asked me.

‘Not now,’ I replied, raising a hand to point. ‘Not since he was born.’

In the middle of the water there was an island, nothing more than a small hump of land patchworked with grass and mossy rock and prickled with ancient wind-sculpted oak trees and beech trees. Surrounding the island were the sacred swans, dipping up and down on the water. Twenty of the birds were of the purest white; twenty of the purest black. But there, off to the left by itself, was a strange beautiful abomination of a creature. For a moment we could see only its black side but, as if aware of our gaze, it turned slowly to face us.

Beside me I heard Kath draw in a deep slow breath. The swan stretched out its wings; the left a shining ebony, the right a glittering icy white. Though I had seen the creature many times, I was still struck by how its form was perfectly divided between darkness and light. Not one white feather flecked its black side, nor one black marred the white. Its pale eyes stared out from a face that was as sinister as the black and white masque of some sick in the soul midnight reveler

‘Pity about its name,’ I said, ‘I mean why call the creature Nameless?’

Chapter Two - posted 25th November 2010

My attempt at levity failed. Kath turned to look at me, her forehead wrinkled into a deep frown. ‘What else could they name it? There are names for white swans and names for black. There’s never been a black and white swan, so’ she said with a shrug, ‘what else could they call but “Nameless”.’

'You talked to the Augurs?' I asked.

'I did,' said Kath, turning to look at me.

'And they explained everything?'

'I think so,' said Kath, 'but what they said was a little difficult to grasp. Something about the resonance of the placement of each creature giving a translatory potential into the future.' She smiled then, and it was good to see it. Warm and open.

'I just nodded,' she continued, her smile growing wider, 'and thanked them for their time.'

'It means,' I explained, 'that before "Nameless" hatched , there were certain designated dates when, at very precise times, the position of the black and white swans on the lake could give a clue to what the future held. It was a very serious business. To avoid any possible mistakes the birds' positions were observed by eye, measured by laser, recorded by satellite, you name it.'

'And it worked?' asked Kath, looking doubtful.

'Well,' I said diplomatically, 'the Augurs have been on this Estate for over twelve hundred years, and over time their institution has spread all over the planet. Their knowledge of politics, economics, society, the whims and dynamics of the Lords of the Peninsula is formidable.'

'So they made good guesses?'

I took my time thinking of an answer. The Augurs were based on my land and daily swore an oath of loyalty to my family, the Sejans, yet I had always been aware of their independence and creepy self assuredness. Personally I thought they were a bunch of smug bastards, but smug bastards it would do well not to offend.

'All I can say for sure is that Estella consulted them, still does, and Estella has never failed me.' But even as I spoke it occurred to me that my Security Chief had been a little fraught of late, more acerbic than usual.

'So what does Estella think about the bird?' asked Kath.

'She doesn't like it,' I said. 'But there's many things my Security Chief doesn't like.' I tried to laugh but only managed a clumsy choking cough. Truth was Estella hated the creature; hated it and feared it.

'The Augurs had a convocation,' I explained, 'to discuss the swan. They respect Estella, so she was invited to speak. She gave her opinion. Others gave theirs. There was a debate. A big debate.' I rolled my eyes, gave Kath a big smile, wanting to move the conversation on. But Kath wasn't for moving.

'Tell me about it,' she said, a serious look on her.

'It was a long, long discussion. Trust me, I had to preside over it'

'Why?'

'Tradition,' I said. 'Bloody tradition dictated I should preside, and bloody tradition dictated that Augurs from across the globe had to come discuss the matter.' I took a breath, tried to control the irritation scratching away inside me.

'All agreed,' I continued, 'that the creature was strange, maybe even terrible, and that its presence made divination more complex, if not near impossible.'

I looked at Kath, but she said nothing.

'Doesn't matter how many satellites and lasers you have,' I explained, 'how can you use the swans to read the future, when one of them is a creature that if taken as black would suggest one eventuality, but if taken as white would suggest an entirely different outcome?'

Kath nodded, sucked on her lip and said, 'I can understand that.'

I gave her no time to add anything more. I was on a roll now; could even remember whole phrases from the convoking: 'One Augur said it was best to destroy the swan because if it stopped us taking a reading on the future we'd never be able to break from the chains of the past. Another Augur insisted it was the ignorance of those chains that was the problem: We leap forward but the unseen chains yank us back; perhaps the swan would force us to take the take time to look at the past, try to uproot those chains. Yet another Augur insisted that the very complexity the swan introduced would make any insight gained all the deeper. Then this other guy, well he had a whole other take on things.'

Kath put a finger on my mouth and I stopped talking. It was not easy, my heart was beating faster and a full rant was getting ready to erupt from me.

'You make it sound stupid and dull,' she said, 'but I wish I had been there. I would have found the discussion fascinating.'

Her voice had such an earnest quality to it that my rant died. I felt embarrassed, guilty even. 'I really wish I could tell you more,' I said, 'But I can't remember much after the opening debates.'

This was true enough. As the tedious hours of the great convoking ached and crawled into interminable days, I only managed to stay awake, and reasonably coherent, by wiping my eyes with a handkerchief imprinted with an amphetamine and cannabis cocktail. I had sat there surrounded by Augurs - some mere children, others far into the nodding, giggling darkness of second babyhood; many shouting and threatening whilst others sat weeping and pleading; with all manners of oratorical excess ballooning up or bursting apart – thinking to myself this is not all that far removed from some of the parties I've hosted. A little less clothing and a bit more music and it would be difficult to tell the difference...

'Penny for your thoughts' spoke Kath, breaking into my reverie. 'They seem to be pleasant ones.'

'Oh,' I said, 'just thinking about how wonderful it is to be out in the fresh air with you and all your remarkable questions.'
Copyright © 2010 Rab swannock Fulton
All Rights Reserved

Chapter Three -posted 2nd December 2010

Kath turned away from me, but not so fast that I didn't see the blush on her cheeks, the wet glitter in her eye. She began to walk back down the path, away from the Consecrated Lake. I took one more look back at "Nameless", but could not see it. No doubt it was amongst the other swans, showing only one side of its self. That made sense, yet its sudden non-visibility sent a little shiver through my guts.

I caught up with Kath, asked her to tell me more about what she had seen and done these last few days, willing to hear anything that could distract me from the damn swan. But Kath was still thinking about "Nameless".

'What did the Augurs decide to do about the swan?' she asked.

'Nothing,' I said. 'They eventually agreed that the creature was sacred, and its purpose known only to the Divine Ones. That was five years ago, and now the creature is treated as a divinity in its own right. People refer to it in their prayers; little figurines of it are offered up in temples from Stone City to the Curleen Mountains.'

Kath nodded. 'I know,' she said. 'My parents have one in their family shrine.'

'Well,' I said, 'now that you have clearance, you can invite them to see the creature itself.'

Kath made no comment.

‘The Augurs still attempt to predict the future,’ I said, trying to reignite her interest. ‘Only instead of one blurry forecast, they have three very blurry forecasts.’ I smiled but Kath remained as mute the swans.

'One outcome is based on "Nameless" being regarded as a black swan. The Augurs call this “Thesis”,’ I said, my brow tightening as I tried to remember the Augurs’ methodology. ‘”Anti-Thesis” is the possible outcome if Nameless is taken as white.” Synthesis” is an outcome that would be complementary to Thesis and Anti-thesis. Though,’ I added whilst rubbing my forehead, ‘there can often be many possible forms of “Synthesis”…’ A thin wisp of pain formed inside my skull, and I stopped talking; added my clumsy silence to Kath’s more assured wordlessness.

We walked back to were the path split. This time I led the way, taking the fork that led to the great mosaic of En Feshqa. Fierna and Tyinae had risen further up the sky; their embrace breaking apart even as they burned more fiercely. We walked for ten dumb minutes or so before Kath finally spoke.

'I asked the Augurs if I could see the Archive.'

I said nothing. The chill in my belly turned icy.

'I told them I had clearance,' said Kath. 'They knew already, but they wouldn't let me see the Archive.'

I manage to speak. 'Why did you want to see the Archive?'

'Twelve hundred years of documents, artifacts, relics,' Kath's voice was rising as she spoke. 'Who wouldn't want to see that? But they refused me.'

'Well,' I explained in a calm voice, 'the Temple is part of my estate, but does not belong to my estate. Only the Augurs and my family store material in the Archive, but even we Sejans have to ask permission from the Augurs.'

'Oh,' said Kath in a quiet voice, 'I guess that explains it.'

The path was now leading up the gentle incline of the hillock that overlooked the great mosaic of En Feshqa. Of all the land I owned, this small rise of ground was my favourite place. Sitting on the green grass of En Feshqa, whilst looking down at its likeness created from innumerable chips of coloured marble, glass and precious stones, always filled me with a soothing sense of completeness.

Kath spoke again: 'Do you have anything in the Archive?'

I looked at her, but her face was free of any guile. 'I do,' I said.

'So you visit the Archive?'

'No,' I said, aware as I spoke the word of how abrasive my voice sounded. I took a breath, repeated myself more quietly. 'No,' I repeated, then added, 'I only visited the Archive once.'

Whatever it was about my voice, Kath realised she had asked one question to many. 'I'm sorry,' she spluttered, 'I didn't mean to pry. I was just...' And then she began to weep, great wrenching sobs that shook her from head to foot. I'd seen that kind of weeping in the movies, but it was unsettling to see it in real life. Confused, I put an arm round her, pulled her towards me, held her trembling and teary against my chest.

'You've nothing to be sorry for,' I said, stroking her dark curly hair, and finding myself becoming a little aroused - the movies I watch, emotional scenes inevitably lead to sweating nudity.

'Oh I do,' she gasped, pushing me away from her. 'I'm so sorry Marcus, but I want to go back to Stone City.'

I managed to spit out a choked: 'What?'

Kath dried her eyes with her big strong hands and looked at me. 'This life is not for me,' she said, as if that explained anything. 'I want to set up my own practice.'

'But why?' I pleaded. 'You've just been promoted to the head of the medical section. I've given you full clearance. I can even ask the Augurs about the Archive if you want.'

'Marcus', she said, her hand reaching out to mine but then going back to her side, 'you do not need me. Nor do your staff. Despite all the abuse you subject your body to you are a very healthy man. It's been wonderful working here, but I need a change, a challenge.'

'I'd be more interesting if I was sickly?' I said still aiming for humour, still, lets be honest, hoping for sweating nudity. 'I can do that.' I gave a loud hacking cough and beat my hand against my chest. It almost worked. Kath took an involuntary gulp of air as her mouth widen into a smile that promised laughter. But she stopped the laugh, stopped the accompanying glow in her eyes and blush on her cheeks. It was as if a switched had been pulled on all that wonderful carefree emotion.

'What about,' I tried to think of the right word, but it eluded me.

'Marcus,' she said. 'Our friendship is, was...'

'What do you mean by was?' I asked, my voice a little too demanding, my words a little too clumsy. 'You are, and I mean now, this very second, one of the most important connections I have with another person.'

Kath sighed, 'I think I would have preferred to be the most important connection.'

'But you are,' I blurted out.

'No I'm not Marcus. Even now I can sense part of you is elsewhere.'

'Nonsense!' I shouted, my left hand clenching into a fist. But even as the denial was uttered a wisp of memory floated into my mind. It was a face, recalled to me by the simple act of looking at the gems and stones of the En Feshqa mosaic. But the recollection had as much substance as smoke, and broke apart even as I considered it.

Kath laid a hand on my fist and my hand sprang open like a flower startled by sudden daylight. 'Marcus,' she said, looking straight at me, 'sometimes you can be almost ninety per cent here. Sometimes. But never a hundred percent. Never once have I seen you fully involved in the now that I live and breathe in.'

'Nobody is ever a hundred percent present,' I said, trying not to sound tongue tied and confused.

'Oh we all drift off in our dwams now and then,' Kath said. ' But most people still manage to spend some time fully in the here and now. You don't Marcus.'

I squeezed my eyes shut, tried to make sense of her words, but could not. Maybe it was too early in the day or maybe her words struck too close to the bone. Whatever the reason, my brain was locked shut and determined that not even a glint of understanding was going to get through. Instead I found myself thinking of poor En Feshqa, who tried to seduce the Queen of the Universe with his poetry. When She failed to be charmed he tried his wiles and couplets on Her handmaiden. The maid, the sneaky snitch, complained and the Queen of the Universe transformed the lovesick wordsmith into a mere planet.

I opened my eyes; calm again, understood it was time to retreat from this part of the conversation.

'Have you everything you need to set up practice?' I asked, 'I mean finances, contacts, and a clinic. If I can help...'

Kath spoke, and this time her smile was warm and loving. 'I've worked for two years in the Palace Complex of the famous Marcus Marcus. I have no shortage of contacts or savings. And yes I do have a clinic. Come visit and I'll show you around.'

'I will,' I said.

'Good luck Marcus.'

'You too Kath.'

She left then, and I sat there alone, with a cold empty feeling in my belly. But I shook myself, hard; hard enough to get a rush of dizzying blood to my head. I stood up and took myself running across my great estate with its woodlands and meadows, streams and lakes filled with fish and frogs and insects. I ran and ran, till I returned to the hillock over looking the mosaic and collapsed on the grass.

'Bloody women, eh,' I said. En Feshqa glittered but said nothing.

'She'll be back,' I told the poet and the planet both.

It was inevitable, how could any woman resist a man of my fame, power and lineage.

Copyright © 2010 Rab swannock Fulton
All Rights Reserved

Chapter Four - posted 9th December 2010

My fame was at its height then, with many, many stories about me circumnavigating the cosmos. With every month that passed new tales sprouted fungi-like from the tellings and retellings of the myriad versions of the incidents that I – with every new account – increasingly grew to have a greater role in. Indeed as the years and decades passed I had become the central figure in events I had little or no part in, and in events that never even occurred.

I, Marcus Marcus, was everywhere: Graphic novels, books, vids, paintings, 4d imaginings, soap operas, opera operas, bars of soap, chocolate figurines, mugs, drugs, sex aids, educational packs. Not to forget the chat shows beamed across the interstellar waves that rolled between the thousand million plus planets of the Three Zones of Humanity. On some shows I appeared sober, some in various forms and levels of intoxication. Not that it really mattered.

If my fame was not enough for Kath, then there were many other things for her to consider, not least my power and wealth, the vastness of my territories, and the lineage and history of my family, the Sejans.

For eight hundred years this little corner of En Feshqa, with its one city and many ecologies – mountains, moors, meadows, rivers, sea shores – had been the personal domain of the concubines who brought pleasure and intrigue to the lives of my ancestors. The Good Ladies each in their turn lived in the Palace Complex, which, even to this day is referred to by locals as the “Whoors Hoose”.

Appropriately enough, the peninsula juts into the ocean like a semi-tumescent phallus. This cock-awaiting-further-instructions topography is separated from the massive Glaik continent by the great range of the Curleen Mountains. These constitute the western barrier of my personal residence and are known locally, in deference to the divinely exiled poet, as ‘Feshy’s Curls’.

Yet this land and its four million inhabitants was the merest part of my assets. Immediately eastward of the mountains was the greater bulk of my inheritance, the western half of the Glaik continent, home to some five hundred million men, women and children. Over the centuries Glaik and the other Sejan territories have remained reasonably united, prosperous and peaceable, despite many inherent tensions, not least feuds and conspiracies between the patrician families (usually solved through the massive culling of those families) and the reigns of a number of my ancestors who excelled in madness, idiocy, perversity or blatant cowardice.

During the time of my dalliance with Kath, many of the bureaucrats who ran the Glaik provinces regarded my disposition as leaning more towards the fools of my family than to the great heroes, amongst whom they included my father "Marcus the Magnificent". Yet with If-Dec my vizier overseeing Glaik, as well as the Peninsula and Agalma - the moon that circled En Feshqa – there was little opportunity for would be conspirators to weave and whisper intrigues and dissensions. Moreover who would replace me? Unique amongst the domains of the nine Princes, mine was the only one to have remained over the centuries in the control of one family.

Though what constituted the Sejan family was, like blood, a matter of great fluidity; apt to spread and spill everywhere: Thus offspring, siblings, cousins, second cousins and thirty second cousins had all held the Prince. Yet each shared a direct blood link to the original Sejan, known to posterity as Sejan the Harvester. However, recent history had seen the liquidity of my family gradually thicken and clot, until a point had been reached where, for the last eight generations, the Prince had been handed directly from father to son, all the way down to me. This linear tenure had come to be seen as natural as the wind and the rain and the rising and falling of Fierna and Tyinae

The real danger had always come from the Peninsula. Here many of the bastard offspring of the Concubines, with their mother's' assistance, went on to found great families of their own. Throughout history these Lords of the Peninsula, though living humbler lives than the administrators beyond Feshy's Curls, and regarded as clumsy brutish bumpkins by those same administrators, retained an incredible sense of superiority. They were, after all, part of the fabled harvester's lineage.

Only three Lords of the Peninsula had intrigued and gouged their way to the position of Prince, and none had succeeded in securing the succession to their offspring. The last Peninsula Prince had died – slowly and in much pain – over three hundred years ago. Yet, the truth remained that the great patriarchs of the peninsula could all trace their lineage to the moment when the twitching testes of a past Prince had spumed seed and glory into the belly of their lady of pleasure. Because of such long gone copulations the great families of the peninsula believed they deserved respect and fear. They were also more than willing to give refuge to would be claimants from Glaik itself, many of whom had gone on to win the Prince and to pass it on to succeeding generations.

Yet by the time of my takeover the influence of the Lords of the Peninsula had thinned and faded like a once bright tapestry now held together by spider webs and dust. The great prize of the Prince no longer concerned them: The later generations spent more time fighting each other over such frivolities as hunting rights, mistresses, purity of blood. As for the concubines of the Princes, they could be relied on to keep the Lords in line. The last of these ladies was Kristyana the Cheerful, who turned the activities of the Palace Complex's Rendition and Termination Pit into an exuberant spectator sport that often descended into an orgy of audience participation.

As an aged crone she had refused to hand the Palace Complex over to me; then, after she was ejected, raised a paltry rebellion of twenty three miscreants who had been captured without a shot fired. These rebels were sent with their families into pleasant exile in Glaik. Kristyana refused to leave the peninsula and instead was received as a penitent in the Temple of the Queen of the Universe. Every day she washed the feet of the Augurs, whilst glaring at her former home. In the second year of my regime she was implicated in another feeble puff of rebellion and prosecuted for treason in the High Court of Stone City.

Though an evil and hateful old bitch, there was no denying the impression made by her teary barely audible declarations of loyalty to my dead father and to the peninsula and its lost autonomy. Fortunately the trial, which could so easily have become a prolonged and dangerous farce, came to an abrupt end when the brittle boned deary tumbled down the steps outside the court house.

With every year that followed Kristyana's death, threats to my position subsided considerably. In the early days of my regime If-Dec had appointed a Security Chief, Estella, dedicated to the safety of myself and the peninsula. In theory threats could come from many sources: Kristyanistas, former Lords, drunken students, Visible Earth Extremists, Continuity Tax Collectors, jilted lovers, stalkers seeking fifteen minutes of fame. Over the years Estella remained ever vigilant; using both spies and Augurs to keep her up to date on developments not only in the peninsula but across the entire globe.

A quarter century after I had taken the peninsula threats were negligible. Certainly no danger existed to curtail my doing what I did best whilst I waited for Kath to change her mind. I threw parties, attended functions, made charitable donations, held hands with sick children and poor people, made votive offerings, threw more parties, consumed large quantities of stimulants and kept the paparazzi usefully employed. If-Dec, recently returned from tortuous negotiations with the other Princes, was happy to look after all the arrangements for my pastimes, whilst Estella made sure no harm befell me.

Despite being so busy, I still managed to find time every week to meet up with If-Dec and Estella to discuss the running of my domain. It was at one of these meetings that the possibility of a vague threat was discussed. Fool that I am, I chose to ignore my Security Chief's worries.

Chapter Five - posted 16th December 2010

Estella, my Security Chief, was a woman seemingly constructed from sharp angles; her face, her hips, the blonde hair on her head, the legs she walked on and the words she uttered - all had an angularity to them. She was from Fwanabwee, a planet situated deep in the War Zone between Demos and Heim-Y-Ird, whose inhabitants were as renowned for their stubbornness as their piety. Moreover, Estella came from a minority sect, the 'Gods-Touched', whose members made all other Fwanabweeyins seem wanton and frivolous by comparison. Yet, she was not a stereotypical zealot; how could she be working for me and all the flaws that formed me. I had even seen her laugh, if rarely, and only in the company of If-Dec.

My vizier, If-Dec, had a suggestion of softness about him. A former Demos guard, he still kept himself trim, but good fortune and wealth rubs away a man’s corners as sure as a river softens the hardest of rocks. Yet if his frame carried a stone or so more than when I first met him, his mind was sharper then ever. He was also a very handsome man. If anything the peculiarity and ugliness of the great indentation on the top right hand of his cranium – evidence of the last of the many battles he fought as a combatant – gave his facial features a certain rakish glamour.

I had missed him during the four weeks of his long detailed negotiations with the viziers of my fellow Princes. The viziers had been arguing over the legal minutiae of the Extirpation Agreement. Used to punish the intimates of Visible Earth extremists, the agreement was not yet in force in my territories; If-Dec having argued that it had not yet proven its efficiency. Fortunately the talks had ground to a halt, allowing If-Dec to return to me only days after Kath had left for Stone city.

It was the subject of Kath’s leaving that Estella most wanted to discuss. She, If-Dec and I were sat in my personal quarters having our weekly meeting; I was bored, If-Dec cheerful, Estella focused. If-Dec had just finished delivering his summary of the Extirpation Agreement wrangling and I was eager to bring the discussion to an end.

‘Anything else before we finish up?’ I asked.

‘Just one thing,’ said Estella, ‘Do you want me to place Kath under security surveillance?’

'There's no need,' I said. 'She no longer works for here, that’s all. There’s nothing complicated involved.'

'It's unusual Mr. Marcus,' insisted Estella, 'for someone to leave so suddenly. It may be prudent to observe her for a little while.'

I looked at If-Dec, who grinned and shrugged. 'Did you ever uncover anything when Kath was here?' he asked.

'Nothing,' replied Estella.

'Well then?'

'I still find her change of status problematic,' explained the ever cautious Estella.

'Estella,' laughed If-Dec, 'you always found Kath problematic. Let it go. Kath was never a threat to anyone; never will be. You're just trying to look for a security problem where there is none. Relax.'

'Are there any threats?' I asked.

Estella sat quietly for a moment then said, 'There is nothing tangible. But the Augurs are troubled.'

I looked at the calendar on the wall. ‘They read the swans three weeks ago,’ I said, with almost no trace of mockery in my voice.

‘They did.’

‘And what does the future hold?’ I asked.

‘They say that all three possibilities are blurred.’

‘There’s a surprise,’ muttered If-Dec. Estella turned to look at my vizier, her stare calm and steady. If-Dec blinked first, then smiled and asked Estella to go on.

‘Thesis, Anti-Thesis and Synthesis are all blurred,’ continued my Security Chief. That is not that unusual. What is unusual is that all three contain a common element.’

If-Dec straightened up in his seat. 'What do you mean Estella?' he asked. ‘What common element?’

‘Blood,’ came her quiet reply. ‘All three possibilities contain blood, a lot of blood.’

‘Whose blood?’ I asked.

‘The Augurs don’t know.’

‘Is there anything going on now,’ asked if-Dec, ‘that would suggest a likelihood of blood being spilled?’

‘There is nothing definite,’ replied Estella. ‘Just the usual graffiti and saloon talk about restoring the Lord’s parliament.’

'Which has been going on since I took over,' I pointed out.

Estella nodded. 'I know,' she said. 'But I have a feeling in my gut that won't go away.'

'Everything seems fine.' said If-Dec. 'People are better off now than they ever were.'

I said nothing.

Estella scratched her chin, looked at If-Dec, then at me. 'Things may be better,' she said, 'but with every year that passes, there are more people who forget the past. Or were only children when Mr. Marcus took over.'

'You mean,' I interjected, 'people like Kath?'

'I do,' replied Estella, looking at me, face still, eyes unblinking.

I look to my vizier, asked his opinion.

'Could be something to think about Mr. Marcus,' he said, 'all that new blood, eager and confident and believing they own the future.'

'If-Dec', I laughed, 'you’re describing every young man and woman that ever lived. That's the whole point of being young. Blind admiration for new ideas - nothing but contempt for the old. Space! We've all been there.'

If-Dec nodded his head solemnly: 'Yeah. I know. That's what worries me.'

We sat for a moment in silence. Then If-Dec grinned, 'Ah shit, we've become middle aged! When the fuck did that happen.'

'So,' I asked Estella, 'is there a threat or not?'

Estella sighed, scratched her chin again. ‘Could be the blood is just symbolic, a reference to the new men and woman all around us. But I still think I need to increase my monitoring.'

'Of Kath?'

'No, I guess not. I agree with you and If-Dec, she's not a threat. But I'd like to find out whose initiating the slogans on the walls and the rebel toasts in the pubs.'

'Sounds sensible,' I said.

'But keep it discrete Estella,' added If-Dec.

'I always am If-Dec,' replied Estella, with just the slightest hint of a smile

When the meeting ended ten minutes or so later, I asked If-Dec to stay behind for a moment. 'Sure thing,' he said, and gave a nod to Estella who looked at both of us for a moment before leaving.

'I think the advice you gave to Estella was good,' I said.

'What advice?'

'About relaxing. It's always good to relax.'

My vizier smiled and leaned towards me. 'What do you have in mind Mr. Marcus?'

'I think something spectacular would help me relax.'

'How spectacular?'

'I think,' I whispered to my fellow conspirator, 'a week of low gee partying would do the trick.'

'Do you have a date in mind?' If-Dec asked cheerfully.

'Sure,' I said, closing my eyes and jabbing a careless finger at the calendar on the wall. 'That'll do,' said I, feeling cocky.

If-Dec grinned. 'Twenty days from now, Mr. Marcus. Are you sure?

'As sure as smoke goes up and shit goes down.'

If-Dec, ever up to a challenge, began to laugh, hand on his belly and head shaking from side to side.

'Consider it done,' he gasped, still shivering with delight. 'Can't see there being any problem. Just have to commission a rocket, find a free launch site, hire a space station...'

'An outer station,' I interrupted, 'something as far from the wheel hubs as possible.'

'An outer station,' continued If-Dec, still unfazed, 'for a week and organise on board entertainments. Do you have any specific entertainments in mind?'

'Dancing girls!' I declared.

'Guild registered or...'

'Or,' I smiled, 'definitely or.'

Two days later If-Dec announced an outer station had been hired and that I should prepare to leave the next morning. I was in a grand mood that evening, preparing for fun. Then Estella called to tell me the head of the Augurs had requested a chat with me. Nothing could sour a day faster than a meeting with Master Gal’lyus.

‘When’s he wanting this chat?’

‘Tomorrow if that would suit?

‘Tell him I can see him this evening,’

‘Sure Mr. Marcus.’

Chapter Six - posted 30th December 2010

The innumerable lights of the Palace Complex illuminated the first few hundred yard of the route to Gal'lyus's accommodation, after which the lesser glow of the Temple barracks provided a beacon to aim for. As I walked the light of the Palace gradually grew dimmer, but the path was never in darkness. The night sky was clear and filled with countless stars and the occasional glint of a satellite or space station. No astral glow compared, however, to the dazzling beauty of Algalma, as she hung glittering and crescent shaped in the sky. The titanic pipelines that traversed her form seemed, from this distance, as fragile as spider threads on a broken silver coin. As I gazed upwards the words of an ancient poem came to me: ‘Algalma, top and tale of the Sejan story.’

For a moment I felt a great sense of empathy and pride for my family and its long and incredible history. But another part of me knew I was staring up at that big ball of rock and metal only to delay walking past a more immediate memento of Sejan power. Half way between the Palace Complex and the Temple of the Queen of the Universe the land on the left rose, ever so slightly, creating a long blimp. Around this grassy bulge were granite blocks, metal funnels and great unlit klieg lights.

Kristyana had told me, when I was a little child on my first visit to the peninsula, that the strange convexity of land was a fairy fort. ‘Are the fairies in there now?’ I had asked. ‘Oh, there are always fairies in there,’ my father’s concubine replied, ‘working away, making magic.’ ‘Can we go in and see them?’ I asked with childish enthusiasm. And that wicked old woman – Kristyana was always old to me – grabbed my cheek and chortled: ‘Oh I’m sure you’ll get to see the fairies at work one day. Let’s hope they regard you as a friend though; fairies can be a little bit devilish towards visitors that vex them.’

Pushing the reminiscence away, I hurried past that long low hillock, the hair on my neck rising with infantile fear. The glow of the Temple barracks was stronger now, but brought no comfort. The light only made thicker and heavier the darkness enveloping the cluster of trees beyond the fairy fort. I fought the urge to run towards the barracks, from where I could hear scraps of noise – doors opening and closing, voices greeting and fare wells – as the Augurs went about their business, some to rest, others to tend the Temple.

As I walked, steady-paced, past the shadow wrapped trees I caught a glimpse of something pale floating amongst the vegetation, about five feet from the ground. Ice gripped my heart, then just as quickly thawed away and vanished. The chamomile, heroin and lavender fusion I'd inhaled earlier was beginning to do its wonderful work. I smiled at my own foolishness: I'd forgotten Gal'lyus and his late night perambulations. As he stood amongst the trees, Gal'lyus' bent body was indistinguishable from the shadows, his waxen bald head floating like some terrible apparition.

Slowly the old and twisted master of the Augurs walked towards the path, the darkness slipping from him as he drew nearer to me. His trembling right hand clenched the top of a walking stick. His cape of office - interwoven as it was with the blacky green carapaces of a once rare now long extinct beetle - dully reflected the glow of the Temple barrack lights. I waited as aeon long seconds passed, and inch by inch the venerable Gal’lyus came ever closer to me. When only a few feet separated us he stopped to take a deep rasping breath, then resumed his painful steps, talking now as the space between us diminished.

'You look troubled Excellency,' he said. His voice was rich and deep, though there was a hint of a faint ugly gurgle bubbling beneath his words. 'Has the fairy fort been bothering you,' he continued. 'You should knock it down, or fill it in, perhaps turn it into a museum.' At this he smiled and gave a rasping chortle. 'Yes I think that would be something children would find fun and educational.' His smile broadened and his rummy eyes stared at me, challenging me to comment. But I just smiled back and said nothing. Gal’lyus was now standing beside me, happy to rest his feet a while, whilst his mouth kept itself busy:

'When was the last termination anyway? Seven years ago, if I remember rightly. A drunk, lost his job, killed his wife and family, and a neighbour or two just for the craic, heh heh. Dispute over a cheese grater set him off. I think. Or maybe the grater was the murder weapon. My memory is not as good as once was. Ah well, why have the fairy fort if all it does is fash you. Use it or lose, that's what the whoors in Stone City say, so I hear, heh heh. Not much fun having the fairy fort, sitting there all emptiness and echoes. Use or lose it Excellency, use it or lose it. That's my sage advice.'

'Thank you Gal’lyus,' I said refusing as always to use his formal title – just as he always insisted on using mine. 'It is always good to have advice from someone with such intimate knowledge of the peninsula’s history.'

By now the Master of the Augurs had swapped his walking stick over to his left hand. With his right he gripped my left arm; his finger nails digging into my flesh. So we walked; I upright, he bent forward and moving from side to side with every step as if carrying some massive invisible weight. 'The last time the rendition and termination pit was used,' I said, giving the fairy fort its proper name, 'was indeed seven years ago. But it was later discovered the drunk was innocent. His wife's brother was the killer, her husband simply a grief and alcohol addled patsy.'

'Ah,' nodded Gal’lyus, 'such things happen. But perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. What kind of life would the poor fellow have with his entire love one's dead. Eh? Eh? So all turned out for the best. But his brother in law was allowed to live I hear. Shameful, your Excellency, shameful.'

'He was sentenced to hard labour out in the asteroid belt. He died of radiation sickness two years ago.'

'Good!' declared Gal'lyus. 'A good long painful death. That's all those bastard's deserve.' The old man spat, but there was no force in it and the spittle landed on the greeny black shells of the long dead insects.

'As for the murder weapon,' I said, 'an axe was used, not a cheese grater. I believe you may be getting a little confused with one of the innovations that Kristyana introduced to the rendition and termination process.'

Gal'lyus gleefully beat the ground with his stick. 'That's correct Your Excellency,' he said. 'Oh she was a one that woman. You should have treated her with more respect, your Excellency. She was frail when you returned but still so animated with ideas and visions for the Peninsula and for all the Sejan territories.'

By now we were standing in front of the first of the barracks. I turned to look down at Gal'lyus. His eyes were damp, though whether from age or sorrow I could not tell. The Master of the Augurs stepped up two steps and opened the barrack door releasing a warm scent of vanilla and oranges. 'Please come in Excellency,' he said, his voice soft now, wistful even, 'there is much we need to discuss.'

Chapter Seven - posted 9th January 2011

As befitting his position, Gal'lyus had a barrack to himself; its front door opening onto a little hall way. Leaning heavily on his stick with one hand, the old man reached up with the other to loosen his cape and slowly and clumsily hang it from a peg. A door on the right side of the hallway led into a dimly lit room containing two great leather chairs, a writing table, and books – hundreds of books, on shelves, and piled in heaps on the floor. In one gloomy corner I could just make out Gal'lyus's altar, with the red tips of incense sticks smoking and the vague outline of figurines, one of which may have been a swan.

The room was little changed from previous visits; except that above the altar a spot light now shone on the portrait of a young smiling woman. She seemed vaguely familiar in a disquieting way, yet I could not place her. Then I recognised the smile and knew I was looking at Kristyana. Yet a Kristyana free from the wicked horrors of her haghood. This younger Kristyana had an easy laughing beauty to her that enchanted me as doubtless it enchanted many other men – not least my father. Ah my dear, I thought, what about the fairies though?

'What?' Gal’lyus grunted. I looked away from the picture, embarrassed at having spoken aloud. The Augur was struggling into one of the leather chairs. Once he was securely sat he nodded toward the other. I eased my body into the great soft chair and smiled at the old man. Despite my momentary discomfiture I was relaxed, maybe even a little drowsy. I did not like Gal’lyus but I had set my self the task – helped by my organic narcotic infusion – to try and get through this one meeting with as little antagonism as possible. After all, I was setting off for a party on the morn. What harm a little good will to all men?

‘Thank you,’ Said Gal’lyus, his voice growing stronger with every word, ‘for taking the time to see me your Excellency.’

‘I am always glad to meet with you,’ I lied, ‘your opinion is something I have always valued, as did my father.’ At which I glanced up at that old ever-young portrait of Kristyana. I looked again at Gal'lyus, wondering what secrets he and she had shared in the long gone irretrievable past.

‘That is good to hear,’ said he, smiling briefly. His face did not benefit from the smile; the turning up of his lips just gave him a sly, supercilious look. 'You have heard,' he continued, 'about the last reading of the swans?'

'Blood,' I said, bringing my attention back to the here and now. 'Lots of blood everywhere.'

'And this does not trouble you?'

'Why should it? Everybody needs blood. Without it, well it would be kinda hard to function.' I glanced again at Kristyana.

'Indeed Your Excellency. This blood though was not secured in any bodily vessel. It was an ocean of blood, spilled blood.'

'Which could mean anything or nothing,' I said, focusing on the positive. 'Most likely it’s symbolic.'

'Of what Your Excellency?'

'Well, my family's bloodline. It could mean the Sejan line will continue into the distant future: When all the seas gang dry and rocks melt wi the sun, the tide of my family's blood will run on and on and on.'

My eloquence impressed only me. 'The difficulty with that interpretation,' said the old man bitterly, ‘is that for it to have even the vaguest hope of being realised you,' and here he pointed a shaking finger at me,' you, Your Excellency, need a brood mare. And this is something you have failed utterly to find.'

His words almost pricked my bubble of contentment. But I took a breath and refused to be riled. 'Do you believe,' I asked, 'that by leaving me Kath has damaged the future of my family?'

'No,' snapped Gal'lyus, 'what I believe is that your failure to provide an heir is indicative of a greater malaise eating away at the foundations of your family. You took over the Sejan territories a quarter century ago. For good or ill, you spent the first five years reforming, changing, smashing traditions. But since then nothing!'

Once more spit tried to expel itself from the Augurs mouth, only to dribble onto his chin.

'Peace and prosperity are hardly nothing.' I pointed out.

'Peace and prosperity built on nothing but vapidness will end soon enough. Things must remain in motion. Inertia leads to collapse. And collapse leads to confusion, civil strife, bloodshed.'

His genuine anger and concern touched me. 'And this is what the swan reading warned about?' I asked.

Gal'lyus made no immediate reply. He looked exhausted and shrunken by his outburst. He gestured towards the writing table. On top of the table were a jug and a couple of glasses. I stood up, went and filled two glasses, returned, offered one to the Augur. He drank, using two hands to hold the glass steady.

'We could discern nothing from the reading, your Excellency. We could only see blood, thick and dark blood. All I have for you is speculation, but speculation that comes from years of personal experience and centuries of Augur tradition.'

We both sipped our drinks, and then Gal'lyus spoke again.

'I sometimes feel your Excellency that the last twenty years have been one long happy ever after to you. That for you the story is complete. You need take no more active part in the affairs of your family's lands.'

'Ah now Gal'lyus,' I replied, 'my territories are more efficiently run than any time in history.'

But my words did nothing to deflect the Augur from his theme. If anything his words became more poisonous: 'Perhaps it is because you have seen more of the cosmos than anyone else on En Feshqa, ' he said. 'Perhaps, having lived in Demos, you feel this planet is too small to be of any great interest to you.'

I could not stop myself taking another look at Kristyana's portrait; her face was still young and beautiful, but her smile seemed cold now; cruel even; a perfect accompaniment to Gal'lyus's mocking tone. Yet I refused to be nettled. The fortunes of the Augurs and the Sejan family had been entwined for eight hundred years, the relationship mutually enriching to both. Yet, whilst a few Princes and Augur Masters had worked smoothly together, ours is a history of shared antagonism brought about by neither party recognising the other as their superior. I understood this, and, if anything, the Augurs growing anger only awoke within me an amused sympathy.

Ah, if only, if only. The sad refrain of history. If only I had been angrier or at least a bit tighter lipped. There was no need for me to try and win over such a man as Gal'lyus, and certainly not to reveal to him an idea that was, until spoken aloud, a vague embryonic musing. If I had been more alert and Gal'lyus less full of contempt and anger perhaps less men and woman would have been transformed from vibrant breathing, dreaming, hoping entities into cold and broken meat. Perhaps that great swallowing grave would never have been dug deep and wide into the dark rich soil.

Ah well, what’s the pointing in beating myself up? Neither Gal’lyus nor I knew then how things would unfold. The Augur had his plans - great profound sprawling schemes for the future, with every possible variation of those schemes examined minutely. My plans were more immediate and focused: dancing girls in low gee. The anticipation of which served as a shield to the Augur's barbs. So, I listened to the old man's words but failed utterly to give them the response they deserved. Instead of giving in to anger I became ever more reasonable and defensive.

Neither of us was wicked. Neither of us wise. As to where the blame lies for what was to follow? Me, I blame Gal'lyus. Doubtless Gal'lyus would blame me. But Gal'lyus is dead and I ain't, so his opinion don't count none.

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