Chapter 11

Finn picked up the bags they had collected and turned, surprised that Elara was no longer hovering close by. Their visit to the market quickly revealed to him her ability to find the freshest ingredients. She was able to spot the best produce and products at a glance, as if by magic. Their meager shopping needs had been met quickly, with Finn paying and carrying while Elara moved gracefully between stalls, nearly dancing among the ebb and flow of people.

Finn stood tall, stretching his neck and peering around the crowd. There she was. He moved over to stand next to her at the edge of the square looking up at the towering church that ran along one side.

“What is that building?” she asked after a moment.

“It’s a church,” he said. “Like a temple I suppose.” He realized he had not spent much time explaining his world she was now immersed in.

“Can we go inside?”

“Of course,” he replied. They moved up the stairs and passed through the heavy wooden doors. Elara looked like an ethereal creature as she made her way towards the nave. Her curiosity was palpable, her eagerness evident in every step she took.

As they moved more deeply into the dimly lit cathedral, Elara’s eyes widened in awe. The vastness of the space seemed to take her breath away, and she paused for a moment, taking it all in. Finn watched as her gaze swept over the ornate carvings, the colorful frescoes, and the intricate stained-glass windows.

Her lips parted slightly in amazement, and her eyes shone with excitement. “I can sense power here,” she whispered softly. “It’s different from my goddesses, but similar all the same.”

Her eyes turned to the cross hanging at the far end by the choir. She frowned. “What beliefs are followed in this place?” she asked softly.

Finn glanced at the crucifixion scene. “There are plenty of conflicting views on the beliefs, but generally, that is a depiction of the son of God, who supposedly died to take away mankind’s sin.”

Elara frowned. “Sin? I don’t understand.”

Finn thought back to his childhood catechisms. “Sin is going against God’s commandments or laws.”

“What sort of commandments does this god give?” Elara asked.

“Against killing, stealing, bearing false witness, things like that,” Finn replied.

“Do people have to be told those things are wrong?”

Finn shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He had consciously turned away from the church of his childhood and somehow felt wrong trying to defend beliefs he no longer held to be true. However, he agreed with her assessment.

“Some people believe anything not forbidden is allowed. Others confuse their wants and feelings with divine belief. Some people try to force their beliefs on others, attempting to ‘save them’ for God, or from evil, but many argue against different sects with the same core faith. I don’t hold much faith in my world’s religions. How are things in your temples?”

Elara looked at him with her green eyes. Was it looking for understanding, or was it pity? Finn could not really tell.

“Our goddess does not demand gifts or rules. She is a patron of women and wisdom, seeking to guide her followers to live healthy, productive, and fulfilling lives. She shelters those in need, educates those seeking knowledge, and assists her believers and priestesses in maintaining the balance of the cycle-of-days.”

“So, if someone acted contrary to her instruction, she would remove her favor?” Finn asked.

Elara shook her head. “We follow her because it is what, we feel, is right, not out of fear or for the gift of power or favors.”

“So, others follow their gods and goddesses and leave you alone?”

“Mostly, yes. If there is a threat against us, such as the raiders who took me, we are collectively guided by our beliefs to work together to oppose them, but we don’t do it because the goddess instructs us to. We would do it because it is the right thing to do.”

Finn thought for a moment. “What if the leaders of your temple thought destroying a temple of another god was the right thing to do? Would you follow them?”

“It would depend on their reasoning. In all my studies, I only heard of a temple war once, when a powerful mage was pretending to be a priest and trying to raise an army of followers. He had power, and some of his followers did as well, but he was not making the lives of the masses he sought to rule better. They were being subjugated for his benefit, not their own. The real followers of the gods and goddesses saw the corruption of the leader.”

“And what happened?”

“Three nearby temples joined to remove him and cast him from the realm.”

“And then?”

She looked at him sharply. “Then the temples assisted his thralls and cleansed the land of his evil before returning to their lands. Fighting such evil should not be undertaken for material rewards, but to help those being oppressed. Isn’t it the same here?”

Finn gave a small chuckle at her naiveté. “If only. Here we’ve had religious wars and conflict based on religious leaders seeking power over others, using their religious followers as cannon fodder for their ambitions. They believe only their god is right and correct.”

Elara looked up at the crucifixion again. She shook her head and grabbed my hand. “Let’s go home.”

Finn noticed the slight frown on her face, marring an otherwise beautiful visage. He shook his head. He needed to help her, not grow attached to her, he thought. She would leave once she had what she needed to meet her geas.

They were only a block from his apartment when she finally spoke again. “Do all your people believe they can only do what the rules allow?” she asked.

It was a good question. “Yes, and no,” Finn replied. “Most people know what the rules and laws are, and try to live within them, but a large portion will ignore the laws they don’t think should apply to them and accept the risk of being caught. Others think they should be the ones to report lawbreakers to the authorities, thinking that puts them above the laws they don’t like. Finally, some just believe the laws should not apply to them.”

“And that goes for your religious rules as well?”

“I suppose so. Of course, lawbreakers in a church may not face true penalties. In some religions, they may, but in others, they repent and ask for forgiveness. How does it work in your world?”

They paused to unlock the door and then walked up the steps and climbed higher to Finn’s apartment. He began putting their food purchases away once inside.

“The temples don’t have laws that would beget punishment,” she said. “If you turn your back on the teachings of your god, you lose their favor and may be asked to leave the temple if you are sheltering there, but you don’t get punished. The lords of the land can pass laws that may be enforced by themselves or their bailiffs or rangers, but those are supposed to be about providing recompense to the party injured by the lawbreaker. A murderer may be sold to slavery to provide money to the family of the person they murdered. A thief may face a similar fate. Someone in revolt against a lord or lady of the land may be hanged for all to see, since they are trying to raise the people against their lord.”

“What if the lord is evil?” Finn asked. “What if they are using the people unfairly?”

“People can sellout and move, if they feel their local lord is unjust,” Elara replied. “The lord will then lose the commerce from that land or business. If they prevent people from leaving, then the temples may get involved, if their believers are affected.” She gave a little shrug. “Most of the lords and ladies I’ve seen treat fairly with their tenants and merchants. They may be greedy and seek advantage, but they can’t enslave their people with chains, so they need to entice them with honey.”

Finn thought about her words. If only his world was as fair.

“What about that mage that captured and enslaved you? How will he be treated?”

Elara frowned. “The magic users outside the temples have their own hierarchy. They are so few and far between, I don’t know how they would react. If I make it back,” she said with a little shudder, “I can have the temple raise a charge against him, provided I learn his name. The high priestess will decide if she takes the complaint to the Celestial Realm and request action be taken.”

“And what will they do to him?”

Elara frowned. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted.

Finn decided maybe their worlds were not so dissimilar. There, too, it sounded like the powerful made their own rules to live by.

Alex Rennard did not succeed by sticking his neck out. He was as naturally cautious as a turtle, or so some of his detractors insisted. Of course, few of his detractors knew enough about the risks he took, so did not have much say in the matter. He made certain his risks were calculated to the last decimal place and had a good probability of delivering success.

He was the man Victor Sinclair counted on to do the things others would shy away from. He had been the cut-out man for the original project Crimson Chickadee, which had placed Finn Miller in a microchip startup company. That program had not only set up the greatest intelligence coup in history but also generated billions of dollars to fund the program and others like it. Alex had seen the potential of Finn’s work for the company and used his operating funds to invest in the startup well before its stock was listed. When they went public, half the NSA’s stake in them had quadrupled in value. Since it was all off-the-books funds, Victor had been able to channel it where it would do the most good for the Agency.

Now, in an organization that prided itself on secrecy and managing risk, Alex had the enviable position of reporting to the most powerful deputy director with the greatest intelligence collection and analysis tools in the world at his fingertips. Only three people in the world knew what he had access to, and the intelligence he routed to lesser beings daily.

Today was just another day at work for Alex. He passed through the multiple security screenings and access points that protected his office and working terminal. The gates of Fort Meade were only the first and most visible deterrent. Building security was the second layer. Once inside, he had three more access points to traverse, trading his access cards at each point after having his identity confirmed via biometric scans with guard personnel verifying his identity for the last two doorways.

His office was plush, once he reached it. No windows, of course, but virtually every other perk a senior officer could wish for. The large mahogany desk with a comfortable leather chair behind it was standard for a general officer. The leather couch and chairs sitting before it were more suited for a Senator. The private bathroom and full coffee bar were worthy of senior department heads. Anything that Alex might need to be comfortable was provided.

He knew it would be stupid to risk all his official luxury to rock the boat. He could never travel outside the country, but that suited him just fine. He lived for his work, for the access to secrets, for hidden power. He smiled at his own good fortune as he prepared his first cappuccino of the day.

“Let’s see what is on the top of the heap today,” he said to himself as he turned on his computer with its permanent high-speed link to the vast network of super computers buried far below his office.

The Frosting program had been born to eavesdrop on satellite traffic, including the IntelSat transmissions. It had grown from its inception in the 1960s to deliver the capability to tap into all the telephone, fax, and computer transmission routed through the international networks. Numerous leaks had compromised the Echelon program name, but no one had ever whispered the capabilities that were added once Crimson Chickadee succeeded. Inside the agency, Echelon was just a footnote in history now.

Alex watched his screen light up, with the left-hand side showing the top search target results for the past twenty-four hours. With a click of his mouse, he could select a watch phrase and see the frequency trends of the term on the right side of the screen, like a sonar’s waterfall display showing frequency over time. Another click would reveal location data for either the time series of the data or an individual intercept. After years of practice, Alex could read the screen at a glance and discern patterns that most people would think was only noise.

His mug was nearly empty as he finished his morning review. No signals for Finn, who was now the top search priority, but it did look like some of Victor’s friendly congress-critters were chatting with one another. He would need to review those conversations. The other point of interest was the increased frequency of searches on these same congressmen’s campaign finance contributions.

Alex clicked into those data points. The search frequency was still well below the alerting threshold, but it looked like all the searches occurred in Manhattan, around midtown. No two searches were the same location, but it seemed that some people were getting curious about things better left alone. Or one person was running a very clandestine search for information.

“Finn, you’re getting lazy,” Alex said. Only a former spook would randomize their search like that. If Alex had not already been watching for anomalies around the people whose bank records had been compromised, even he would have missed it. Fortunately for him, he was paranoid enough to know who at his bank had been hacked when he got word of the breach.

He was not about to let Finn ruin his cushy job or reduce his power. He sat down and began typing up a warning note to Victor.

The simple books Finn had picked up were both a marvel and an insult to Elara. She marveled at the quality of the printing and the bold colors the books contained, even though the tales told were more suitable for children. The insult was the difficulty she faced in mastering this written language. She couldn’t ask Finn to read the words because that would reveal their meaning. Only when she finally believed she was following the story and grasping its written form did she dare ask him to listen to her attempts at pronunciation.

The sense of self-loathing that filled her when she wasn’t perfect in her efforts was the frustration behind her efforts. She had broken every record for advancement in the temples. She had started her trials five years ahead of the most renowned acolyte. Now, she was stymied by a book suited for novice children in this world. She wanted to cry but refused to be cowed.

With grim determination, she returned to the beginning of the book and worked through the typeset words and sentences.

Music intruded on her concentration. The sound of strange pipes and soft singing drifted into her bedroom from across the hall. Her heart quickened at the familiar melody, and her thoughts were carried away by the sweet symphony of sound that reminded her so vividly of home. It was a familiar rhythm, though the words were melodic gibberish to her ear.

She closed her book and stood to investigate.

In the stillness of the apartment, Elara stood transfixed at the doorway as her gaze fell upon Finn. The sound of Irish folk music wafted through the room, filling the air with a sense of warmth and familiarity that seemed to resonate deep within her soul. Finn’s hunched figure was illuminated by the soft glow emanating from his laptop screen, the music playing in the background as he tirelessly worked on his latest project.

The sight of him stirred a whirlwind of emotions within Elara. She couldn’t resist the allure of his unwavering dedication and focused expression, softened by a gentle touch of kindness when she interrupted him with what must have been trivial English-related issues. The tension in his broad shoulders was palpable, and an inexplicable urge to alleviate his burden surged through her. As she watched him diligently working, her mind drifted back to the moments they had shared over the past few days. She remembered the challenges they had overcome, the laughter that had filled the air, and the unspoken connection that had blossomed between them.