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Seignur Veeoni’s Private Laboratory


Seignur Veeoni straightened somewhat on her stool, frowning at the image of one of Jen Sin’s memory beads on the screen.

Anthora waited, Watching the play of patterned colors, and marveling at the denseness of the researcher’s inner tapestry. It was as if she had lived several lives deeply and simultaneously. Those connections that bound her to others were fewer than one might expect, given the richness of her experience, but the ties were sturdy enough that a Healer need not be concerned of pathology.

“Given that we do not yet know how the material inserted into the beads by Tinsori Light interacted with Light Keeper yos’Phelium, we cannot know if he is able to pass any engineered abnormalities on to another person,” Seignur Veeoni said.

She frowned more ferociously at the screen.

“Having acknowledged our ignorance, let us also acknowledge that Light Keeper yos’Phelium is extraordinarily perceptive. If he believes he may pass this…condition on by a means other than the beads, I believe it is our part to honor that perception until we have gathered facts that conclusively disprove it.”

She looked up, and met Anthora’s eyes.

“I have a question, if you will, Healer.”

“Certainly.” Anthora smiled. “Though I may also be found out as ignorant.”

“Ignorance is merely the defining of goals,” Seignur Veeoni said. “You are, I believe, a Healer of some note. Have you, in the course of your studies or your field work, encountered anything analogous to this situation?”

“I have not myself encountered such a thing, no. There are a very few historical cases which were put down as contagion, though nothing that described the mechanism.”

She sighed.

“This is not widely known, but it is a fact that some Healers are able to intentionally share information with a Healer of like mind. It is not common, but it can, and has, been done.”

“So the possibility exists for a sharing that is less intentional.”

“Possibility, yes,” Anthora said. “Probability—I think it low.”

“Recall that we are speaking of a system refined and implemented by a Great Work,” Seignur Veeoni said.

“True. That does push the needle higher on the scale of probability.” She sighed, recalling Jen Sin’s faint and threadbare pattern. It was the natural urge of an empath to assist in such circumstances, but, truly, there was little she could do to revitalize his pattern. Life would set in bright, new threads, and his connections would multiply. Already, she had seen a tenuous thread between him and Theo. The process was slow, but certain. She merely needed to ensure that Jen Sin lived to see the cure.

“What is your next step?” Seignur Veeoni asked.

Anthora turned up empty palms.

“For the moment, I am willing to watch and permit matters to proceed.”

“Allowing the situation to clarify. I understand. I regret that I was not able to provide definitive answers.”

“You were informative and helpful. I welcome your insights,” Anthora said, truthfully, and slid to her feet. She bowed as between equals.

“M Traven will see you out,” Seignur Veeoni said, and there, indeed, was the compact woman in the doorway, watching her with interest.


Anthora was almost to the door between Seignur Veeoni’s hall and the greater station, when she spied a figure approaching.

A woman in nondescript overalls—a tech of some kind, perhaps, except that there was that about her that reminded Anthora of Tolly Jones. The face, perhaps? Pleasantly shaped, tan, and smooth—but, surely there were many people who looked thus.

The woman’s pattern, however…

She Looked more closely.

Yes, there it was. Enough alike that she located the switch at once, familiar now that she had dealt with one.

She put out a hand as they came level with each other.

“I can fix that for you,” she said. “The command switch.”

Blue eyes considered her blandly.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” the other woman said pleasantly.

Anthora inclined her head.

“Of course you don’t,” she said, softly. “If you want free of it, come to me when you’ve finished your business here. My reference is Tolly Jones. My name is Anthora yos’Galan.”


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Framed