The Third Nature -Book One of the Triad
Voyager fantasies by Lt Taya 17 Janeway
emissaries, witchcraft and war
Myriam Ashkar, Head of the Daer-on-Naiad, Coordinator of the Panizhe, sat in the bronze throne at the end of the war room, her gaze focused on the glass ball hovering before her. She watched as the Healer's apprentice brought the woman and the man who'd been wandering at the edge of Naiad over to their daer. An amused smile stole over her face as she watched her Mage come streaming out of their houses, trying to catch a glimpse of the strangers. Travelers to the dark realms of the Preeminence were rare, and these two were their first in a long time. Her smile was evanescent, however, as she remembered the reason why these wanderers were rare in the first place. She remembered the reason why they'd turned this hall into a war room.
It was a magnificent room, twenty feet high, twenty-five feet wide and twice as long, carved out of slabs of gray marble lifted straight from Vallis Hennai. The walls depicted murals of the first Empresses and the commissioning of the Auguries. It was beautiful workmanship, crafted by the former inhabitants of these daers before the Panizhe had taken over. The décor in the room was ascetic, reflecting the difficult times the rebels had to live through. They had little resources to bedizen their rooms with finery, and Myriam sometimes missed the lazy opulence of the Amethyst Palace which she had grown up in.
But it was a sacrifice she made willingly if it meant that all of the Preeminence could live with pride and honor just like they used to do. A small price to pay.
She watched as the woman in her viewglobe held a brief argument with the young apprentice. Closing her eyes, she probed and found the source of the woman's unhappiness: the man she came with could not enter the war room. Silently she sent a message to the boy to allow her consort in. It was a small diplomatic gesture she made in deference to the sensitivities of the newcomers. It was a stupid rule, anyway- their war room wasn't even shielded from males, like it was done in some other places.
With a snap of her fingers, she replaced the viewglobe to its rightful place and rearranged her robes in anticipation of her guests. She'd been sitting here since yesterday afternoon when the eight Seers had told her the signs. About time they turned up.
The massive stone doors to the war room swung open with a light touch of the woman's palm. Myriam noted that with a touch of interest; it was a Charmed door and required the touch of a Mage to open that way- men had to physically push it. So was she Mage too?
She stood at the doorway, staring curiously at the door, then at her palm. Apparently she'd not expected the door to open that easily either. She was about to reach for the instrument clipped to her belt when Myriam called, "Come here, where I can see you clearly."
She paused, then she walked forward to the middle of the hall, coming into the circle of radiant light cast by the circle of stone overhead on the ceiling polished so fine it was transparent.
A small smile curved Myriam's lips. The woman was slight in stature, small and trim. Her man, in contrast, stood tall, with wide shoulders. Where she was fair, he was dark-skinned, churning with restless energy where he was calm. Both wore the same kind of black-and-maroon suit, probably a mark of their allegiances. And she had red hair, curling around the strong lines of her jaw like a burning flame. Red hair was good. It was always good. Myriam herself was a natural auburn, a trait she had kept from her mother's bloodline. She sent a gentle psychic probe into the woman's mind, like dipping her toe into the surface of a lake to test its temperature. She immediately caught onto a strong current of passionate emotions, sweeping her along with its intensity: love, hate, regret, and a bright, burning determination.
And power. So much power, raw and unchanneled, slammed into her senses and sensibilities it felt like someone had pulled hot wire through her. But yet she kept herself outwardly calm, focusing instead on the source and stem of this wild energy.
"I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Starship Voyager," the woman introduced herself. Gesturing to her man, she continued, "And this is my first officer, Commander Chakotay."
Kathryn Janeway. Chakotay. Names which sounded hauntingly familiar. Why? Myriam allowed her eyes to half-lid, giving the illusion of listening whilst her attentions lay somewhere else. Keeping her mindlink to Janeway intact, Myriam probed her own mind for references to this woman. If she was aware of that link, she didn't show it, continuing to tell her about the plight of her starship. The repair of the starship shouldn't take too much trouble; they had plenty of shipyard mechanics around. Myriam was more interested in the crew of the ship. She searched her mind for where she'd heard of these people before, and a name came forth to her, unbidden. Myriam opened her eyes and straightened up.
"Who's B'Elanna Torres?" she asked abruptly, interrupting Janeway in the middle of a sentence.
A flash of emotions, an odd mix between surprise and annoyance, flitted across her features. She blinked, and said slowly, "She's my chief engineer. Do you know her?"
Myriam felt a touch of suspicion form in the woman's mind as she narrowed her eyes and angled her a cold look. Then, as clear as if Janeway had projected it into her thoughts, she heard her think, Keep out of my mind.
Myriam would have fallen out of her chair in shock, but years of training and Casting had gifted her with the preternatural ability to suppress her reactions to the strangest situations. Instead, she sent back, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude.
Janeway's eyes widened in surprise as Myriam spoke to her. You're telepathic!
You sent me your thoughts; so I will send you mine.
I… did?
She hadn't meant to message Myriam. Yet somehow the sheer force of her will had unwittingly intruded on the Coordinator's thoughts.
Yes. Perhaps you were not aware of it. This skill is not easy to master… have you had any training of this sort?
Training? I'm afraid not.
Chakotay was unnerved by this sudden silence between the two women. "Captain?"
Janeway turned to look at him, then back at Myriam. He cannot hear us?
Of course not. He's male.
What difference does that make?
Males receive thoughts at different frequencies. I am using those specific to females only. And he isn't receptive enough to hear us.
Janeway frowned, then spoke out loud, probably for the benefit of Chakotay. "The child mentioned that you wanted us to aid you in your war."
"Ah, the war." Myriam would have rather not thought of the subject. "That should be left for later discussion. In the meantime, I'd like you to try something." Myriam's heart was singing. Could the Auguries really have spoken true? This woman could project voices without even being taught. What other miracles might she be able to perform? She had a deep-seated feeling that if anybody could be the Emissaries, it would be them. She called a simple castglobe to her. "I want you to try holding this-" she began.
The door to the war room burst open.
***
The Healer was busy preparing a salve for one of her patients when Josh came bursting into the office, out of breath and incoherent. She watched with a maternal smile as her apprentice tried to string a complete sentence together. "Is there something wrong, Josh?"
"No, Healer!" He sucked in a breath, then blurted out, "They'rehere they'rehere-theonesyousaidwouldcome!! They'rereallyhere justliketheAuguriessaid-"
"Wait. Slow down," she coaxed him, taking him by the arm and leading him deeper into the office. "Who's here?"
Josh sat down on one of the waiting benches. The Healer's office was a simple brick-and-sandstone affair, done in shades of tan and sienna. It was circular in shape, windowless but with a central opening in the domed ceiling which let in the cool gray daylight. At night the torches, in their holders ringed around the office at regular intervals, provided both warmth and illumination. They had one central diagnostic bed and several more secondary patient beds to the side. One half of the walls were lined with shelves containing thick volumes of microstorage wafers, instruments and natural herbs, the other half had benches built out of them, with resplendent brown cushions and a stack of reading materials for those waiting to peruse. The Healer handed the panting boy a warm cup of honeydew sap, which he took and drank eagerly.
"Who's here?" she asked again when he'd finished with the cup.
"The Emissaries," whispered the boy with dramatic emphasis, smiling up at the Healer with an almost divine expression. "I met them in the woods, and one of them says-" He stood up and whispered into her ear.
She drew back, eyes widening in shock. "Are you sure?"
He nodded vigorously.
"That… that's not possible!" She paced the room, hope and disbelief warring for supremacy on her face. "It can't be…" She paused, then turned back to Josh. "Are you absolutely very, very sure?"
He nodded desperately. "I swear by my blood and soul-"
Unreasonably and uncharacteristically impatient, she cut off his oath with a wave of her hand. "You said they were here in this daer? Where are they now?"
"Having an audience with Myriam, in the war room."
This time, it was the Healer who was out of the door in a mad dash.
She arrived at the door of the war room in a whirlwind of excitement, wanting only to see the truth for herself. But before she could palm the door open, she hesitated in trepidation. What if Josh was wrong, and it wasn't who she thought it was? What would she say then? She bit her lip, telling herself that it was likely that the universe was playing a damn trick on her, and she shouldn't get too disappointed when the door opened. Satisfied, she slapped her hand on the heavy bronze construct.
The doors to the end of the war room slammed open, and she clamped a hand to her mouth to stop herself from crying out. She had known, she had just known, right from the beginning, that Josh was right. That no matter how much she tried to convince herself that she wouldn't be disappointed just before was really all just a well-meaning farce, that it was unnecessary because that somehow she knew she wouldn't be disappointed.
Myriam, a castglobe in hand, stared at her in complete shock.
Janeway turned and stared at her in complete shock.
She finally found her vocal cords and right of mind to speak. "Captain!"
Janeway stared at her in disbelief. "Kes?"
Myriam smiled cryptically as their Healer crossed the room and gave the Emissary a tight hug.