possible at any level. The balance of all worlds requires Kei running along natural Kei lines—think of them as blood vess e ls of the everlasting soul. The Earth has a spirit and life just like every other living thing. And due to the shortage of Kei, the Earth is dying.”
Monson cocked the eyebrow. “Dying?”
“One more mystery, Mr. Grey, but our time is short so I won’t bore you with the details.” Baroty adjusted his cloak, pushing it back around him. “Suffice it to say that this world lacks the naturally occurring Kei resources of other worlds and because of this, if the Millennex was ever completed, the people of this world would be hard-pressed to survive the transition.”
Monson scowled. “What ’s the Millennex?”
Baroty sneered at the interruption. “What did I say about time Mr. Grey? We don’t have much of it. As I was saying, Marques, in his genius, formulated a hypothesis and successfully tested a revolutionary technique that would change this otherwise inevitable outcome. Marques actually created a way to siphon off Kei from living persons.”
A light went on in Monson’s head. “The machine. That machine I used is based on that technology.”
“Very good, Mr. Grey, you are picking this up very quickly,” said Baroty, his tone somewhat congratulatory. “But that is not totally correct. The machine is an invention of my own, though it would be correct to say that Marques was at least partially responsible for its creation. Your grandfather was a master of many things, from Scriptology to Applied Kei Theory. He was never one to sit idle and it was because of his lust for life that I was able to single-handedly adapt one of the oldest and most forbidden techniques of the Seven Races and in doing so, give this land a practical way out of its powerlessness.”
The light that had flipped on in Monson’s head brightened as he understood. “The bridge. That’s why we were at your bridge. This technique was in use somehow at the bridge.”
“You’re smarter than you look, Mr. Grey. Indeed, Marques’ Specialty Spell was in full effect at my bridge.”
Baroty swept his hand across his body as if to indicate all around him. “Marques and I came to this world to separate ourselves from the dogma of the Magi, the Emporiume, and even the Brotherhood. Fools who cannot see beyond their own slack-jawed, pigheaded beliefs that you’ve not had the pleasure of enduring as of yet, Mr. Grey. Dogmas that do not allow independent thought or reasoning beyond the ruminations of dead prophets. Prophecies given thousands of years ago that still plague the attempt s at advanc ing life. Marques and I came to the one place where the Brotherhood, the Magi , and the Empori u me could not reach us and it was here in the world of the Humans, this dying sphere , that I found the answer.”
Answer? Monson didn’t understand. He wasn’t even sure what the question was .
“This experiment by the Spirits of Creation, this attempt at heightened efficiency has failed. The races were never able to co-exist as the Spirits of Creation wanted them. Planetary spheres were never meant to have more than one master race, let alone two or three. You have been sheltered here on Earth; you have not been subject to the wars or rumors of war that plague the other worlds. With only one dominant race, you are not subject to the mistrust sown by various being s of the different Founders. You humans merely have your squabbles over land, money or power, the strong bolstering their position while the weak pass unceremoniously into the void. What it is that humans say? ‘One man’s saint is another man’s sinner?’ Sure, you fight among yourselves but you do not know the calamity of the other worlds and races that may soon fall upon this one if the Millennex is complete. Marques’ invention and my plan are this world’s only hope for survival.”
“So the makeover here at Coren, the Artificial Inland Project, Baroty
Monson cocked the eyebrow. “Dying?”
“One more mystery, Mr. Grey, but our time is short so I won’t bore you with the details.” Baroty adjusted his cloak, pushing it back around him. “Suffice it to say that this world lacks the naturally occurring Kei resources of other worlds and because of this, if the Millennex was ever completed, the people of this world would be hard-pressed to survive the transition.”
Monson scowled. “What ’s the Millennex?”
Baroty sneered at the interruption. “What did I say about time Mr. Grey? We don’t have much of it. As I was saying, Marques, in his genius, formulated a hypothesis and successfully tested a revolutionary technique that would change this otherwise inevitable outcome. Marques actually created a way to siphon off Kei from living persons.”
A light went on in Monson’s head. “The machine. That machine I used is based on that technology.”
“Very good, Mr. Grey, you are picking this up very quickly,” said Baroty, his tone somewhat congratulatory. “But that is not totally correct. The machine is an invention of my own, though it would be correct to say that Marques was at least partially responsible for its creation. Your grandfather was a master of many things, from Scriptology to Applied Kei Theory. He was never one to sit idle and it was because of his lust for life that I was able to single-handedly adapt one of the oldest and most forbidden techniques of the Seven Races and in doing so, give this land a practical way out of its powerlessness.”
The light that had flipped on in Monson’s head brightened as he understood. “The bridge. That’s why we were at your bridge. This technique was in use somehow at the bridge.”
“You’re smarter than you look, Mr. Grey. Indeed, Marques’ Specialty Spell was in full effect at my bridge.”
Baroty swept his hand across his body as if to indicate all around him. “Marques and I came to this world to separate ourselves from the dogma of the Magi, the Emporiume, and even the Brotherhood. Fools who cannot see beyond their own slack-jawed, pigheaded beliefs that you’ve not had the pleasure of enduring as of yet, Mr. Grey. Dogmas that do not allow independent thought or reasoning beyond the ruminations of dead prophets. Prophecies given thousands of years ago that still plague the attempt s at advanc ing life. Marques and I came to the one place where the Brotherhood, the Magi , and the Empori u me could not reach us and it was here in the world of the Humans, this dying sphere , that I found the answer.”
Answer? Monson didn’t understand. He wasn’t even sure what the question was .
“This experiment by the Spirits of Creation, this attempt at heightened efficiency has failed. The races were never able to co-exist as the Spirits of Creation wanted them. Planetary spheres were never meant to have more than one master race, let alone two or three. You have been sheltered here on Earth; you have not been subject to the wars or rumors of war that plague the other worlds. With only one dominant race, you are not subject to the mistrust sown by various being s of the different Founders. You humans merely have your squabbles over land, money or power, the strong bolstering their position while the weak pass unceremoniously into the void. What it is that humans say? ‘One man’s saint is another man’s sinner?’ Sure, you fight among yourselves but you do not know the calamity of the other worlds and races that may soon fall upon this one if the Millennex is complete. Marques’ invention and my plan are this world’s only hope for survival.”
“So the makeover here at Coren, the Artificial Inland Project, Baroty
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