Empires of Flux & Anchor

seemed unable to pour her own water out of a pitcher into a glass. She kept trying to stick her hand in. In all my years this close to Flux I never saw anything like it.”

Kasdi and Mervyn both nodded gravely at this, but were most anxious to see Spirit. She had been recognized immediately, of course, but it was clear from the first that she was under a ton of binding spells. They had dispatched word immediately, and both wizards had ridden hard all afternoon to reach the gate. Kasdi’s father and Cloise had wanted to come, but these were matters best dealt with by magic, and in Flux.

“And when she had to pee—pardon, Sister—she totally ignored our bathrooms and just squatted outside and went. Messy. And we have modern toilets, too!”

They mostly ignored the little bureaucrat and made straight for the girl, who was now sitting under a tree near the gate, just out of sight of the main road.

When Spirit saw Sister Kasdi coming towards her, she felt mixed emotions. On the one hand, here at last was her true mother, looking very grave and very concerned, and even after all this it felt nice. But here, too, was a living legend and by no choice of hers the cause of her problems. The old guy she didn’t recognize at all.

She stood and faced her real mother, surprised and shocked that she nearly towered over the older woman. Legends aren’t supposed to be small and frail-looking. They stood there a moment, looking at each other, both unsure of what to do next. Finally, Kasdi approached, put her arms around Spirit, and hugged, and Spirit found herself crying and hugging back.

Mervyn let them have their reunion as he watched. “Interesting,” he said to himself, although the little customs man was still there and thought himself addressed.

“What’s interesting?”

“Huh? Oh, the clothes.”

“But she isn’t wearing any!”

“Well, yes, but Sister Kasdi is. You said there was a burning when the jacket was put on the girl; yet there’s no effect when her mother’s clothing touches her. The spell is quite specific, it seems. This is going to be a tough one, I think. Coydt’s mind is, ah, shall we say, one of a kind.”

Sign language was the only true medium of communication possible, but Spirit managed, after a dozen tries, to ask why none of the other family was there. Patiently, Kasdi tried by pointing and gestures to tell her that they were deep in Anchor and that she had to go back into Flux with them. Spirit was disappointed, but she knew that they would get word to her parents and her grandfather quickly. She realized that all the things Coydt had done to her could only be examined and possibly fixed in Flux, though, and it would be better to do it this time among people trying to help her.

Kasdi’s sincere emotion at seeing her had triggered an odd response after all the resentment. The relief and love there seemed genuine, all the more so because it was spontaneous and in Anchor. She still did not feel close or kin to this strange woman, but a great deal of the anger and resentment was very suddenly gone.

It would be for the local authorities to determine how and when she had been brought here. The first business was to get into Flux and see just what in fact had been done. This would be Mervyn’s job—he was the analyzer, the diagnostician, and he knew all the funny little tricks of the trade.

They brought horses, but Spirit refused to mount hers. She knew she had ridden them quite often and in fact had loved to ride, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it now. They tried putting her on using a couple of big, burly guards, but she kept losing her balance and falling off, and they eventually gave up. The failure disturbed her and began to bring home just what changes Coydt had forced upon her.

So they walked, the other two leading the horses, out across the apron and into Flux, drawing many stares as they went. Spirit realized that they would take forever this way and motioned for them to mount and ride. She was was always in good condition—perhaps she could at least give them some lead.

She could hardly outdistance a horse, but she found a steady jogging run to be no trouble at all, and they were amazed at not only the speed she could maintain but also the fact that, fairly far out, she was barely breathing hard. Spirit, too, was surprised at the effortlessness of it all and realized that this must be part of the spell as well. It felt good to run.

Mervyn more than once had to stop Kasdi from halting through concern for Spirit. “Let’s see just what her limits are.”

“She’s inhuman now,” Kasdi noted.

“I know.”

Finally, when they reached the first stringer water pocket and had to turn in, they found the girl barely perspiring and not the least bit winded, although she stopped when they did and went over and drank deeply of the clear water.

“That spell is a nightmare. I try and follow it and suddenly I get lost,” Kasdi said. “How about you?”

“I’m beginning to see a pattern in it, but I’ll need more time with her, and not on the run, to do more.”

They made Hope in under three days, with short sleeps, and it was hardly a challenge for Spirit. Since she seemed unwilling to come inside buildings, no matter how open, they set her up in the park near the temple and made it off limits to unauthorized personnel. From that point on, and for the next week, Mervyn and several associates made their intensive studies, studies reinforced by being able to observe her behavior close at hand. She cooperated as fully as possible with them, knowing what they were doing and wishing devoutly that she could know and understand their conclusions. Mervyn worked tirelessly, scanning all sorts of books from the Codex project and later writings to solve the puzzle. Finally, he thought he had it all.

“You know, we often use the word ‘diabolical’ to talk of the works and mind of Hell, but you seldom really see the meaning of that word. This is diabolical.”

Kasdi frowned. “O.K., give it to me. Spare nothing.”

“I intend to. In one way, it’s Coydt’s sense of humor showing. He has taken the daughter of the First Lady of the Church and remade that daughter into the First Woman. He has, in a sense, removed her knowledge of good and evil. Not that she’ll kill someone or anything like that, but all the social inhibitions are suppressed, some entirely, and the new behavior is reinforced by conditioning spells. She is naked, but she walked up to the movement workers without any attempt at concealment because she simply doesn’t consider nudity odd or unusual. You might say she has no sense of shame. This is reinforced by a concrete spell that prevents others from clothing or concealing her.

“Similarly, she has full bowel control and will hardly eliminate in polite company. Nonetheless, she feels no shame at eliminating, and if it is necessary and convenient, she will do so without ever thinking of who might be watching. I believe, too, that if she were with a young man in public, and he made romantic overtures to her and she were so inclined, she would think nothing of performing sex right then and there and in public.”

“But she has control? I mean, if she didn’t want to, that would be that. I think the man’s inhibitions will probably take care of that problem, then. Go on.”

“Her body, which was always in fine shape, has been tuned to its absolute ultimate. She is, quite literally, physically perfect, at the upper limit of what her body is physically capable of. This might deteriorate slightly in Anchor, but would be restored and maintained in Flux in any case. She can run, jump, lift, and climb better than any woman alive. I watched her jump almost effortlessly to a tree limb almost four meters up, swing herself effortlessly onto it, and walk in that tree as if she were on flat ground. Perfect balance and coordination, absolutely flawless in every detail. She can sprint faster than any normal human, and you saw her capacity for long-distance running. She draws the energy she needs from Flux, and she could maintain it, I suspect, for weeks in Anchor. She bruises only with difficulty, and they are gone overnight. There is definite regeneration in the spells, and it’s a tight spell. She will be impossible to disfigure, mar, or maim, and damned hard to kill, in Anchor or Flux. The regeneration, in fact, is so absolute that her body is nearly immortal. She will be seventeen forever.”

“And the communications?”

“This is part of the diabolical portion. Somehow he’s come up with a new language, a shifting mathematical abstract that serves to carry thoughts and process memories, but its basic code randomly shifts several times a minute. I would say that all of her memories and basic personality are intact, but the language is so abstract and complex that it bears no relation to ours, and since it constantly shifts, it’s impossible by the present arts to decode. I would almost say it is a language better suited to machines than humans, although what machines would need languages I don’t know, nor can I guess where he got it. Even duplicating the language spell won’t help unless you know and start with the exact same coding as she’s using at the moment—and even if you matched it up, it