“I’ve seen an increase in mail-in auguries,” I said, “but a lot of them, the oracle won’t answer. Like, anything asking where the invaders will strike next. Either the oracle doesn’t want to waste people’s time on auguries that have to come the slow way through the mail, or it wants us to rely on our other resources.”
“The Athenaeum, too, has never been busier,” Claude said. “It is that people search for answers in every place they might be. It has drawn magery together.”
“Except it hasn’t, because of the stupid Nicollien and Ambrosite fight,” I said. “I wish they’d get over themselves already and see how they’re hurting themselves.”
“The Board’s decision to limit the times each faction can use a Neutrality has made our job difficult,” Samudra said. “I have already petitioned for an exemption. There is simply no practical way to divide access to the Sanctuary by the time of day.”
I felt more cheerful hearing this. “Maybe it will force the factions to get along. If they’re trying to achieve inner peace, I mean.”
“Possibly,” Samudra said, but he didn’t sound confident. “I fear the answer will simply be to partition the Sanctuary and confine each faction to a different area.”
My cheerfulness evaporated. “You’re probably right.”
Samudra nodded. “Let us stay in touch. If there are any more attacks on our Neutralities, we should notify one another.”
We set a time for another video call three days from now, and I disconnected. I leaned back in my chair and ran my fingers through my hair. For once, I wasn’t worried about invaders or my personal demons, but about the factions. There had to be some way to make them see sense.
I walked to where Malcolm sat watching the news. He wore a distant expression that told me he wasn’t seeing what was on the screen, which happened to be more footage of Barcelona. I sat and leaned against him, startling him out of his reverie. “Anything new?” I asked.
He shook his head. “More of the same. Frightened people using violence to hide the fact that they are frightened. But it seems the rioting is confined to only a few sections of the city, and police are already acting to contain it.”
“That’s good.”
Malcolm turned off the television and stood, bringing me to my feet. “I’m unexpectedly tired,” he said, “and I have a feeling tomorrow will be a busy day.”
“Really? Why’s that?”
He shook his head again. “I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I have.”
“Then let’s cuddle.” I took his hand. “And I need to tell you what happened tonight.”
Despite Malcolm’s premonition, Friday was a quieter day than we’d seen all week. After lunch, I sat in the office at work and stared at my phone, which displayed my contacts list. Sydney had said to call if there was anything that couldn’t wait until the regular therapy visit. Having that flashback might count, but I’d talked about it with Malcolm, I wasn’t suppressing it, and maybe I was overreacting.
I set my phone down and closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing, how the cool, citrus-scented air filled my lungs and then left my body. I let myself feel the pressure of the air on the skin of my arms and my face. I became gradually aware of how the cloth of my shirt rubbed gently against my collarbone, how my sandals pressed against my soles. The hum of the computer came to my attention, a low vibration I’d never noticed before. Once again I had the sensation of sinking gently into a pool of foam, all my senses alert to the world around me.
A pressure on the back of my neck told me the oracle was paying attention. The pressure spread across my body, not painful, more like a deep, caressing touch. I leaned into it, and the pressure increased. Everything surrounding me felt heightened, the smell of citrus richer, the hum of the computer louder. Are you doing this? I thought to the oracle, afraid to break my concentration by speaking. Are we in your space?
The oracle said nothing. Its attention filled me, made my bones hum. My breathing came more rapidly, and as I focused on slowing it down, I realized I was seeing things behind closed eyes. Not exactly the specks or waves of light I was used to; these were more like bright webs that uncurled and spread and curled again. They reminded me of jellyfish undulating through water, though without tentacles. I watched the moving webs, forgetting about controlling my breathing. They changed color as they moved, from red to purple to blue to green and then back again. The light show was so beautiful I again asked the oracle silently Are you doing this?
Again, there was silence from the oracle. I watched in rapt fascination, following a web until it slid out of sight, then watching another. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been doing this when the oracle said, Helena. Something comes.
For once, the oracle’s cryptic utterance didn’t annoy me. It was hard to feel annoyance, or any negative emotion, in my current state. When? I thought. Not my usual response, but at the moment, nothing bothered me.
The oracle didn’t respond at first. After a few seconds, it said, Not when. How. Seal the cracks.
I think that’s what Mr. Wallach has in mind. Sealing the cracks that let the invaders enter our world.
Three fall. Three remain. The anchor vanishes. Something comes.
The pressure of the oracle’s attention made me feel like a drum skin, stretched tight over my bones. The colored webs grew brighter and began flashing. I felt the oracle drift away and reached for it, desperate to maintain that overwhelming, beautiful connection. What anchor? Can I stop it vanishing?
They change. Adapt. I will end. Helena will end.
The webs of light whirled around my head, dizzying me. Then they vanished. I floated in blackness for a while, my mind numb, until my eyes fluttered open and I realized I’d fainted. My cheek was pressed against the smooth hardness of the melamine desk, and a trickle of drool leaked from the corner of my mouth. I sat up and the world spun around me. Gripping the edge of the desk, I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. My lungs ached as if I’d forgotten how.
I wiped my cheek and concentrated on breathing until my head didn’t feel so swollen. When I opened my eyes again, the room had settled down. Even so, I sat for a few minutes longer, just in case I was wobbly.
I was positive I hadn’t been within the oracle’s space. It had reached out to me from wherever it existed. And it was reasonable to assume it could do so because I’d managed to put myself in a receptive state by meditating. Whether I’d fainted because its presence had overwhelmed me, or I’d just forgotten to breathe, I didn’t know. But its communication hadn’t been any clearer than usual, which frustrated me now that that blissful moment was past. Maybe the oracle was too alien to ever express itself in a way I could understand.
My phone display had turned off while I was communing with the oracle. I turned it on again and hesitated with my finger over the number for the Gunther Node. I might still be overreacting, but if that laser shooter had been a real gun, an innocent person would be dead today. I stabbed the screen with unnecessary force and waited for the call to go through.
I’d anticipated having to wait a while, but they connected me with Sydney almost immediately. “Helena, are you all right?” she said.