Flannel

{throws hands up} This should have gone up Monday morning. Don't know what happened. I probably messed up the scheduling somehow. These 3000+ word days are taking a toll, and I'm considering switching to three 2000ish word chapters a week.

In other news, the month of Hen has always come before the month of Crane, and Justin has always arrived on the 45^th. Any rumors to the contrary are the filthy deceits of Devils seeking to overthrow the Heavens and reduce the good peoples of the world to a state beneath the livestock of the Hells. Do not believe them!

I decided I’d played the 5th-from-last sentence of Chapter 17 too discreet in exchange for an uncertain later payoff and have edited it to make the intended point explicit. I’ve also added the original version behind a spoiler for those who are graciously and generously willing to provide feedback on this change.

Fortunately, the crowd took his breakdown for a religious paroxysm, a release of the stress accumulated while serving the Dawn’s will for god-only-knew how long. So rather than the reverent mobbing he’d feared, they held back, showing their respect by talking quietly and watching him from a distance. He had the uncomfortable feeling that his helpless crying jag had somehow impressed them more than an oratorical or mag- theurgical - or other kind of performative demonstration would have.

He caught Pei blankly staring at him from a distance and realized he’d exceeded the man’s capacity to remain unimpressed. Taiko was busy running interference for him with the few people conceited, or fanatical, or enough of both to think they deserved a piece of Justin’s time despite his state. Nuti was guiding the stunned Registry official through the closing documentation, practically moving the man’s hand for him. And Tzo. . .was watching one of the crank-teens sprint down the slips the way they had come, probably headed back to the Ling Fei boat with instructions.

Tzo turned to catch his eye, nodded so slightly it was almost invisible, and faded discreetly into the throng as it began to disperse. That would be my cue, Justin thought. . .not dizzily, but not entirely steady on his feet either. He stumbled over to Pei regardless.

“Bone-crew?” he rasped. Pei only continued to stare at him.

“Master Pei, you’re not being paid to stand around and worship,” Justin said. It came out far more exhausted than the teasing remonstration he’d intended. Pei shied like a horse, jerking back as though Justin was some kind of threat. Then his features tightened up into their normal alertness, and he really looked at Justin for the first time in several minutes.

“You’re. . .far from being done today, aren’t you,” he observed more than asked. “This wasn’t the Dawn’s task for you. This was just another step towards its completion.”

“You’re a perceptive man, Master Pei,” Justin said.

Pei’s glance swept over the crowd. “Shouldn’t have flinched from you that way. Bad impression. Let me try to repair it, please.”

Justin nodded, and Pei shuffled closer to embrace him. The small delay to Pei’s movement gave Justin enough warning to not flinch himself, and as the taller and older-appearing man wrapped his arms about him, Justin reciprocated and let his forehead rest on the shipwright’s shoulder, leaning in.

I hate this, he thought to himself. I’m a fraud – not a complete fraud; I do believe in the Dawn’s divinity, but I’m not of the faith. I don’t worship. I don’t deserve this much respect from those that do.

And not least because I’ll use their respect to get and do whatever I must, regardless of merit.

He carefully kept his attention away from any thoughts about making an explicit deal with the god, and gave Pei an adult that’s-enough squeeze before letting go. “Thank you for your invaluable contributions to my mission, Master Pei,” he said, raising his voice and clapping a hand on the man’s shoulder. Pei nodded soberly, muttered “let’s get you on your way then, son,” then added in Justin’s volume, “Honored to serve, Prominence.”

He turned to scan the crowd. “BARU!” he shouted. “Scoop ‘em up, get ‘em back, take the desk! Helming her myself!”

“knew you would, boss,” Baru’s voice came faintly back from the crowd, then, louder: “All right, you layabouts, pack it up and get back to work! Our other boys and girls won’t build themselves!”

There were more boos and catcalls in response than sounds of agreement, but they were good-spirited, so Justin turned away at Pei’s gesture. He followed the man to a landing below a staircase past the slipway’s edge where a half-full longboat with 4 oarmen awaited. More of the same, filled with excited sailors, were already clustering around the Chloe, waiting for them to arrive.

“Prominence; Master Pei,” Tzo said from above as Justin was clambering in. “Will the East-Wind docks serve as a transfer point? I regret to say there may be a delay in assembling sufficient crew for so large a vessel -”

Justin shook his head. “I’m going to fully Invest the Chloe as soon as sensible, which means getting her as well away from interference and observation as feasible. That also might get a bit,” he paused to lick his lips in anticipation, “loud and spectacular, and also, I believe, obviate the need for crew. Although I would appreciate the loan of some human guards as well, Tzo.”

Pei gave him a startled glance. “But didn’t you just -”

“That was a Solar Hallowing, Pei. This will be something. . .different.”

Pei looked unnerved. Up above Tzo cursed: “Ah, screw a school of spiny eels in summer! I can’t miss that, either - er, with your permission, of course, Prominence?”

“I won’t say the more the merrier, but you’re more than welcome. And where’s -”

“Coming, Brother,” Taiko said, moving into view. “The excellent Advocate is not the only one here who takes a personal delight in witnessing the making of history.” He and Tzo exchanged nods of acknowledging agreement.

Pei’s mood abruptly changed to enthusiastic. “Then get in here, gentlemen! We’re wasting daylight!” He clapped his hands and rubbed the palms together again. “By tradition, Prominence, as owner you’re first to board, so budge over to the port hull there, please. . . .”

# # #

Justin was indeed the first to climb the plank-and-rope ladder the slipway workers had left hanging for that purpose. He’d triple tied and checked the Shinbi valise with his wealth and his electronics inside, after tucking his sandals in as well. Taiko’s eyes had flitted upwards and over in a split-second roll at that, but Justin had given him a sincere smile, and the old monk had taken it with the respect for his sensibilities intended.

Gonna need to add ship shoes and some kind of genkan areas to the design, Justin thought, as Pei, Tzo, Taiko, and the sailors swarming aboard all imitated his bared feet. Respect or not, kitchens and storerooms and laundries and dance floors, to say nothing of alchemy labs, required footgear. Later.

“No, Pei, I prefer to not take a tour,” he said. “The Investiture is going to severely alter the internals anyways, and I want to practice climbing the central mainmast for that.”

“Bunta!” Pei shouted, nodding. “Get a training rig up the main! By your leave, then, Prominence; it’s the wheelhouse for me.”

“Enjoy!” Justin said, and Pei grinned back at him before going.

“Ah,” Taiko said. “Invest at the point that the Dawn sees first, and is ever closest to? A good choice.”

“Seemed appropriate,” Justin said. “Got a spare scratch sheet?”

“Always,” Taiko said, pulling another small scroll out of his robes. Justin walked over to the back corner of the upper deck, between the high bulwark and the outer walls of the rear cabin, and sat down. One more thing that had been nagging at him, and he had an inkling about it, so while the safety harness went up. . . .

Third month, forty-fifth day, so 145. 406 into 365.25; 8 times, 404-5; 9 times; 391-0, 9 times, so 0.899, call it 0.9, times 145 is 130.5, minus 31, 28, 31, 30 is. . .noonish of May 10th-ish. Oh well. Just a weird idea then -

- wait. Winter solstice. New Year’s here is combined with the solstice, or just after it. Which was. . .December 21, so take back 10 kadams to honor the – 120.5th day - son of a – it is freaking Beltane! Or its mathematical analogue, at least - Sol, you magnificent bastard! Did you arrange this!?

You’re not the least clever mortal I’ve had dealings with, Sol’s voice breezed through his ears, warmer than usual with approval. Your Goodwife isn’t here, so you needn’t bother with the wreath or ribbons or dancing. Your wits now and your ascent to come will be offering enough, and more. Well done, Prominence.

“Taiko?” Justin said.

“Yes, brother?”

“Your god is a devious crafty underhandling schemer,” Justin said. There were a few shocked gasps and widened eyes from the sailors within earshot.

Taiko, naturally, had the indecency to react with enthusiasm. “Oh!” he chirped eagerly. “What has he done this time, Brother?”

“Today’s the local calendar analogue to the date of an ancient marriage and fertility festival of my ancestors,” Justin sighed. “And he just implicitly confirmed that the timing was deliberate.”

“The Dawn is ever foresighful in his benevolence,” Taiko said piously, cupping one hand over the other and raising them above his bowed head.

“Yeah, and you’re a chucklepunk who should go eat a great big bag of, of - spiny eel sausages,” Justin grumbled.

Tzo snorted and turned to look over the railings, his shoulders shaking.

# # #

“Getting real insistent,” Pei observed. The four of them were standing at the aft railing, watching a small fleet of boats and ships with very officially very upset very official people in them, chasing them out to the Drops. They'd fallen into their wake as the Chloe passed east of the city center through the upper-class islands. 

They were barely gaining. A few inches per minute, at best.

Right Here Chloe, despite her mutant bulk, was an uncommonly fast ship. Thanks to their higher Froude numbers, normal trimarans often were. The combination of her triple-triple sail area and her lack of anything onboard besides owner, shipwright, and two passengers was more than enough to overcome the deficits from towing the now-filled longboats between her hulls.

There was rather a lot of screaming and shouting at sea today. Not only were the officials, and bureaucrats, and aristos, and so on howling themselves hoarse with commands, and demands, the Utzin sailors were belting out hymms in at the top of their lungs in retaliation.

Justin shrugged. “Last chance -” he began, and Tzo flipped a hand at him dismissively. “I would not miss this for the world,” the old shark said fiercely. “I’m staying, no matter the risk, so stop asking.”

Justin shrugged. “On your own head be it, then.” He turned to Pei. “The weather’s good, Taiko’s on lookout, and Tzo’s got the wheel. No time like the present.” He held out a hand to the shipwright, who grasped him by the forearm and gave him a firm shake. Then Pei shook his hands at the other two, who returned the courtesy, turned to the stairs, and slid down them professionally. They watched him jog across the upper deck to the last rope coiled at the trailing edge of the starboard ‘tween-hull platform, wrap it in a descender’s hitch, and ease his way off the decking. The rudderman in the longboat underneath shifted it to the side, sliding neatly underneath him as he dropped onto a thwart.

He sat and waved at them, and Taiko and Justin moved to the opposite of the stern while Tzo went down the narrow stairs into the wheelhouse proper. Justin and Taiko waved three times, and the longboats released their prow attachments, gliding from between the hulls into open water. The oars went out, and still singing, they got themselves under way.

Justin and Taiko descended to the upper deck, where Justin undid the rope ties, opened the valise, and took out his Upcoat. He shrugged it on, handed Taiko the sheet of translated lyrics he’d been holding back from the man, and activated the music player and speakers.

Taiko scanned the lines with fascination. “Simple, but all the more singable for it. Who is this little-”

“Nobody in particular,” Justin cut him off, as he started strapping on the safety harness at the base of the central mainmast. “The songwriter once said something along the lines that it doesn’t really matter who they were referring to or what they meant by any of the words, because there’s only one writer and there are millions of listeners. Just sing. You’re a smart guy, you’ll figure it out.”

Taiko, far too perceptively for Justin’s taste, recognized his short temper for the nervousness it really was, and patted him on the back as he took a deep breath and passed the rope around the mast. “You’ll be fine. You’ve been up and down it half a dozen times already, and the Dawn wants this to work.”

“Shut up, I hate you, you’re a big jerk, you and your da- darn clever god both,” Justin said. He didn’t fear heights, but they weren’t his favorite thing in life either. Especially when he was about to make himself ground zero for the transfer of what Taiko had called a cataclysmic amount of power at over a hundred feet in the air.

The things we do for love, he thought, more proud than amused than perplexed than dismayed. He turned on the player and speakers, found the song in the menu he’d primed ahead of time for circumstances – well, maybe not just like this, but along these lines – set it on repeat with an initial thirty-second delay, and hit play. Funny thing; he'd looked high and low for cover alternatives before signing, but in the end only the original could do. There was simply something right about it that the others didn't have. The Toronto charity choral version had come close, though. He was kind of looking forward to hearing that being done by real believers here someday. And he was delaying.

He slid the Klemheist knots for the opposite hand and foot loops up, stepped in, pulled, and started climbing.

Pull with hand and step up on opposite loop, release opposite grip, slide knot up, lift foot, bend down and tug knot up, grip again, pull with hand and step up, flip waist loop farther up mast, release grip, slide knot up, lift, bend, tug, grip pull, step, flip, release. . .carefully, steadily, full attention given. . . . 

When the clouds began forming a quarter of the way to the top, he got a little nervous.

When the purple flashes of what resembled nothing so much as the tribulation lightning from Chloe’s and her - their -friends' cultivation novels started flickering in them overhead, around halfway up, he got a lot nervous.

When the actual damn bolts of the stuff started leaping up and down around the ship, at ever-narrowing distances, with a fourth of the way left to go. . .while the mast flexed and warped beneath him, swaying back and forth through the empty air like some badly maintained traveling carnival thrill ride. . . .

Well, it still didn’t even come close to making him think about quitting, but he did have to consciously clamp down on his biology.

At least, almost all of the conceited, narcissistic, delusionally self-impressed troublemakers chasing them had turned around and were making their best speed away. The collectively deranged Utzin nutbars, on the other hand, were rowing like mad to hold a steady distance as close to. . .no, a lot closer to the lightning strikes than Justin liked.

Working his way through every word for idiocy he could remember got him the rest of the way to the top.

Ominously, when he did, the lightning slowed, and then stopped.

As the last bars of the last repeat began, he tightened the ropes as much as he could, and without hesitation, slapped his hand on the flat circle of the mast’s top and wished.

The world seemed to pause for a moment, as if it was holding its breath in witness like the crowds at the slip less than an hour ago. The last chords rang out.

And as he’d anticipated, the lightning that had been building up in the clouds exploded downwards, with repeated blinding flashes and earstabbing BANG!s

. . .only to cascade over a perfectly spherical, translucent sun-yellow shield that covered the entire ship, and then ground itself in apparently futile harmlessness through the frothing waters of the Toh.

Φ SO MOTE IT BE! Φ

Sol’s voice boomed in his head, drowning out the crackling thunder. Justin watched as the ship below shifted and changed, simultaneously growing and shrinking in his vision like a dolly zoom. Third stories grew out of each hull’s forecastle and aftercastle. Sturdy wheelhouses appeared to the rear; lounges with floor-to-ceiling glass windows under eaves to the forwards.

A dancefloor surrounded by integrated couches and planters sprung out of the forward upper deck of the starboard hull. A tabled patio did the same on the central one, and a massive square well with a giant’s stair of staggered platforms to the forward opened on the port, which was then slowly concealed by a horizontal rolling cover rising out of the sides, while vertical accordion panels came together to hide away the platforms.

Looking good, Justin thought, finally holding his own breath with anticipation. Any minute now, any minute. . . .

An agonized, infuriated shriek arose from the bowels of the port hull.

Yes! Justin thought. Who called it? Daddy done called it!

“YOU - YOU – PSYCHOPATHIC – IMBECILE!” it gibbered. “WHAT! HAVE! YOU! DONE!?”

“indiana father, you little toe-rag,” Justin whispered. “in-di-a-na fa-ther!”

# # #

The lightning thundered deeper and deeper into the Toh, into the dark and the pressure below, losing power every inch of the way.

But it had power to spare.

It fragmented across the freshwater sea's floor, blasting fulgurite formations into the sand, clawing its way into undersea caverns thousands of feet beneath. It fractally split again and again, each thread-thin, hair-thin strand eventually dying away into nothingness, absorbed by the materia of the world. . .except for one last, crackling line of unnatural electricity.

That final extended spark found its way into a gallery of glowing multicolored crystals encompassing a single massive dark sphere. The line grounded out across the face of one small hexagonal prism of cloudy white at the periphery. The damage it left behind could not even be called so much a scratch; it was, at most, a mere discontinuity in the prism's lattice edge.

But after thousands of years of discharge and decay, and the slow accumulation of similar harms nearby, as small as it was. . .it was more than enough to tip the balance.

The being sealed in the sphere did not awaken. But time started to move for it again. The rate was imperceptible, almost immeasurably slow, but it was also - as the formation's self-repair functions increasingly began to lose ground against the damage of millenia - accelerating.

Flannel

uh. . .indiana father?

Spoiler

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