Tales of Midbar: Religious Intolerance

I had dinner at the Vineyard in the refractory.

“Eleprin,” said River, “you understand that now you know you’re a nibeyah you have certain responsibilities. You can’t go around telling people who the psychics are.”

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve been told not to do that since I got here.”

“Good. You probably also shouldn’t tell people that Breeze is the magis. A lot of people suspect but they’re mostly magi so they’re expected to keep the same rules and aren’t going to tell others.”

“I understand,” I said.

Perhaps this was me being told what I should do about the secret but I wasn’t sure if that was the secret I was supposed to find. Also I rather expected to know that I should do something, rather than not do something.

“Good. You’re friend Iandris is a psychic and knows it but she isn’t so reliable. We’ve spoken to her and she doesn’t seem to understand the rules. It’s best not to let her know things.”

“Can’t she read my mind?”

“Yes she can but she probably won’t find out things unless she knows the right questions to ask.”

I walked home in red night thinking things over. I realized that I was a psychic, if a common and not terribly powerful type. I was also friends with the new Vineyard magis. Perhaps this was the destiny I’d always felt called to and I was going to be important after all.

I got home and found the police and the mage waiting for me again and this time both my parents were there, looking very worried. This time the police seemed rather more angry.

“We heard you visited Lishrashic,” said Veran.

“Yes,” I said, “we were playing detectives.”

“Well don’t!” said Veran. “Detective work can be very dangerous. Anyway, it seems somebody attacked Lishrashic again and this time they also attacked his wife.”

I just stared back at him.

“Poslit, can you scan her?”

“There was another girl talking to Lishrashic and Iandris after the kids left,” said Mum.

“I know but we can’t find her,” said Veran.

The mage held out the magic detector again and said, “It’s the same as last time. A little magic residue, no spells, no artifacts.”

“Lishrashic has a persistent spell on him?” I said. “That might mess up your magic detector.”

“He did have a spell on him, twice,” said Veran.

“She has a point,” said Poslit. “I really should rescan him when the residue’s faded. It’s possible that the persistent spell is confusing my readings but it would have to be one without any associates. I suppose it’s possible that such a spell could be causing his amnesia attacks.”

“The first time he was knocked unconscious,” said Veran. “This time he just suddenly realized that he couldn’t remember the last few hours and neither could his wife. Could such a spell erase his wife’s memory?”

“It’s possible,” said Poslit. “I think.”

“The first attack looks like a date rape spell,” said Veran.

“I know,” said Poslit, “but he’s a strange victim for that and nothing much seemed to have been done to him.”

“Isn’t that the same as a concussion spell?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Poslit.

“Why do they call it a date rape spell?” I asked.

“Never mind,” said Veran. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“This could be a religious conflict between Astrigis worshippers and Winemakers,” said Poslit.

“Nothing like that’s happened since the Cataclysm,” said Veran.

“We were driven out of Grishnarl by Nuhara persecution,” said Dad.

Perhaps I should have warned him that Poslit was a nibey as well as a mage but I wasn’t supposed to do things like that.

“That wasn’t a conflict between Trulists and Winemakers,” said Veran.

“You always get the odd nut,” said Poslit. “Lishrashic doesn’t strike me as a fanatic though. Perhaps somebody else is manipulating him.”

“Anyway,” said Veran, “perhaps you can tell us what Lishrashic and his wife have forgotten.”

“Not much,” I said, realizing that the unidentified girl who’d spoken to Lishrashic and Iandris was probably a Haprihagfen who’d erased their memories because they knew that Breeze had detected Lishrashic’s artifacts. “Breeze pretended to scan him with a bit of polymer that she pretended was a magic detector and he told us that he’d come to Minris because Astrigis told him to, talking through a plant and his wife said she wasn’t a mage. Then we went to the Vineyard looking for clues but couldn’t find any.”

“Why would anybody want them to forget that?” asked Veran.

“Perhaps you jogged their memories and made them realize why the first attack happened,” said Poslit.

“Or perhaps why somebody put a spell on Lishrashic to keep him in Minris,” said Mum.

Veran looked at her. “That sounds important but why do these magic related cases always get complicated? I’d also like to know what the witness thinks!” he turned back to me.

“Psychics and magi like to keep their secrets,” said Poslit. “I’m sure the girl realizes that.”

“Yes I do,” I said, putting my hands on my hips and somehow knowing that he knew that Breeze was the anavah magis and that he suspected that this had something to do with why Lishrashic and his wife had had their memories erased but that he didn’t want Veran to know this.

“This is mage feces, isn’t it?” the policeman asked Poslit.

“I’ll cite the anti-korbarism law,” said Poslit, “particularly paragraph seventeen about preserving the secrecy of magi and magises as it was thought unfair if the law only applied to psychics, but in this case, there are also aspects of religious discrimination.”

“You mean you know ...”

“I don’t know,” said Poslit. “I suspect but I don’t know the details.”

“But you’re unwilling to explain your suspicion to me?”

“Doing so would violate the anti-korbarism law.”

“How the fornication am I supposed to investigate this if you can’t tell me what you know?”

“Quite frankly,” said Poslit, “if little miss detective and her friends agree to stop playing detectives and leave this to the professionals, I think we’ll have no more trouble. Then again I really don’t know how the teather spell on Lishrashic relates to the other stuff. At least if the kids leave this alone, we’ll have a better chance of seeing the ring system for the moonlets.”

“That’s not very encouraging?” said Veran.

“Like you said,” said Poslit, “These magic related cases tend to get complicated.”

I was sitting in the lobby in the morning and Criadria was teaching me how to do accounts.

“You have a profit of eighty seven point three, two, five grains,” I said.

“Very good.”

Just then, Vritan came in looking terrible and more slovenly than normal.

“You’re late!” said Criadria.

“I didn’t sleep well,” said Vritan.

“Who was he?” asked Criadria.

“Why do you always assume that everything that happens to me has something to do with a guy?”

“Because you think with your ovaries!”

“Well this time you’re wrong. Firstly, I was kept awake by my tattoo hurting.” She opened the front of her shirt to show us a large, and rather fresh looking, tattoo of a muscular, naked man flexing his muscles and holding a large plate piled with, well probably food but you couldn’t really tell from the tatoo, in each hand. I recognised him as Murmur.

Do I have to say who he is?

OK, he’s the god of Traunbrit temple, the god of feasting and diets.

“Did he have to be naked?” asked Criadria.

“He’s totally hot!”

“So’s Tianamet,” I said. I knew that because I’d often heard men say it, particularly at Ermish temple where there were lots of pictures and idols of her. Then I thought that maybe I shouldn’t have said that.

“I don’t fancy Tianamet!” said Vritan. “Do you want your guy to look at your boobs or hers? This will remind my guy to keep himself in shape and to feed me well.”

“I don’t have boobs," I said. "Anyway, I’m not going to get any tattoos because I’m a Winemaker.”

“Anyway," said Vritan, "I was laying in bed trying to get to sleep after Aleph set and suddenly this ancient jumped over the wall of my bedroom, came over to the bed and looked at me and then just took off again. I was terrified, couldn’t even scream!”