be more right than anyone else, don’t they? Don’t they? So which of you is the most right today?”
“The Addo is right,” Dai says. “We all know the true name of our God. We need to put aside everyone else’s confusion and concentrate on the matters before us.”
More than one Procella rolls their eyes, but the Addo just wipes the crumbs from his hands and starts again.
“Okay, if we’re done viewing the detour scenery...where was I? The fifth point? I think so. The fifth roadblock is that we’re short-handed on our side of the tug-o-war rope. We’re twelve Addos down, so I need to meet your Moxes and introduce to you the one I’ve been training myself. In fact—and I think this’ll make you squeal a bit—I’ve made a drastic decision. For my own Mox, I’ve brought in one of the Simple.”
Addo sits back and retrieves another cookie as t he collective gasp ripples through not only the Procella in the courtyard, but their Curas up in the balconies. Then the buzz begins and people are leaning off the railings above to shout down things like, That is not done! and A Simple Addo can’t lead us properly! and We won’t follow a substandard Addo!
Sean appears relaxed, his hands folded passively in front of him. Appears. But when I study him more closely, I see the muscles jumping in his clenched jaw and the way he digs one thumb into the top of his clasped hands.
The Addo, however, just keeps munching, scattering another ski-slope worth of crumbs down the front of him. I can’t even project the question in my head— What are you doing? –because everyone in the balconies is moving and shouting and stabbing fingers in the Addo’s direction. My entire body prickles with awareness, and I struggle to keep my field down, since I’m not in danger. I’m just totally furious that the other Cura members are saying crap about Sean. I want to climb up to each balcony and tell them exactly how lucky they would be to have Sean as their Addo.
But even t he Procella in the courtyard have all taken different stances. Tuco is pacing along the outer ring, nearest to Sasu, as he keeps a stink-eye trained right on the Addo. Wojtek and Heema have both moved away, gripping the backs of benches, elbows locked, as they stare at the Addo. Lestyn folds his stout arms, his gaze riveted on the Addo. Everyone in the courtyard, whether they are pointing or pacing or sitting, is watching the Addo.
With the tension so tight, it’s like twanging the high E string on a g uitar, I realize it isn’t shock that is drawing the stares of the Procella to the Addo. It is that the Contego Procella are being compelled to protect. In such close range, along with the perceived threat from the balconies above, the Procella’s fields are probably syncing with our Addo, since all of their Addos have died. Their Contego wiring compels them to protect the Addo, the same way it compels me.
You see why we called the Procella and had the Curas remain in the balconies? the Addo mentions in the back of my head.
As the last remaining Addo, you inherited all the Contego, I answer. You are our sole leader, so they are hard-wired to protect you now, just like I am. You’re playing the odds that the majority won’t go haywire as traitors and try to kill you.
Totally , Addo says. Even in my head, his voice is garbled with his mouthful of cookies. My eyes dart around, aware of the woman hanging off the third floor balcony, shouting in a stream of what I think is Hindi, at the Addo.
She’s furious, I say.
Ah yes, Padma. That’s Addo Gita’s sister. She still wants me dismembered, and I don’t mean from the community. The Addo finishes his cookie and slaps his hands together to shake off the crumbs. But, onto business. I’m going to assume by this show that we may have a clean community in here. A traitor that’s gone to The Fury would have tried an attack by now, I think. Or at
“The Addo is right,” Dai says. “We all know the true name of our God. We need to put aside everyone else’s confusion and concentrate on the matters before us.”
More than one Procella rolls their eyes, but the Addo just wipes the crumbs from his hands and starts again.
“Okay, if we’re done viewing the detour scenery...where was I? The fifth point? I think so. The fifth roadblock is that we’re short-handed on our side of the tug-o-war rope. We’re twelve Addos down, so I need to meet your Moxes and introduce to you the one I’ve been training myself. In fact—and I think this’ll make you squeal a bit—I’ve made a drastic decision. For my own Mox, I’ve brought in one of the Simple.”
Addo sits back and retrieves another cookie as t he collective gasp ripples through not only the Procella in the courtyard, but their Curas up in the balconies. Then the buzz begins and people are leaning off the railings above to shout down things like, That is not done! and A Simple Addo can’t lead us properly! and We won’t follow a substandard Addo!
Sean appears relaxed, his hands folded passively in front of him. Appears. But when I study him more closely, I see the muscles jumping in his clenched jaw and the way he digs one thumb into the top of his clasped hands.
The Addo, however, just keeps munching, scattering another ski-slope worth of crumbs down the front of him. I can’t even project the question in my head— What are you doing? –because everyone in the balconies is moving and shouting and stabbing fingers in the Addo’s direction. My entire body prickles with awareness, and I struggle to keep my field down, since I’m not in danger. I’m just totally furious that the other Cura members are saying crap about Sean. I want to climb up to each balcony and tell them exactly how lucky they would be to have Sean as their Addo.
But even t he Procella in the courtyard have all taken different stances. Tuco is pacing along the outer ring, nearest to Sasu, as he keeps a stink-eye trained right on the Addo. Wojtek and Heema have both moved away, gripping the backs of benches, elbows locked, as they stare at the Addo. Lestyn folds his stout arms, his gaze riveted on the Addo. Everyone in the courtyard, whether they are pointing or pacing or sitting, is watching the Addo.
With the tension so tight, it’s like twanging the high E string on a g uitar, I realize it isn’t shock that is drawing the stares of the Procella to the Addo. It is that the Contego Procella are being compelled to protect. In such close range, along with the perceived threat from the balconies above, the Procella’s fields are probably syncing with our Addo, since all of their Addos have died. Their Contego wiring compels them to protect the Addo, the same way it compels me.
You see why we called the Procella and had the Curas remain in the balconies? the Addo mentions in the back of my head.
As the last remaining Addo, you inherited all the Contego, I answer. You are our sole leader, so they are hard-wired to protect you now, just like I am. You’re playing the odds that the majority won’t go haywire as traitors and try to kill you.
Totally , Addo says. Even in my head, his voice is garbled with his mouthful of cookies. My eyes dart around, aware of the woman hanging off the third floor balcony, shouting in a stream of what I think is Hindi, at the Addo.
She’s furious, I say.
Ah yes, Padma. That’s Addo Gita’s sister. She still wants me dismembered, and I don’t mean from the community. The Addo finishes his cookie and slaps his hands together to shake off the crumbs. But, onto business. I’m going to assume by this show that we may have a clean community in here. A traitor that’s gone to The Fury would have tried an attack by now, I think. Or at
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