Dome 6, p.3
Dome 6, page 3
Instead, Phex, Missit, and Quasilun would be retrieved in a few days.
The initial greeting party had left them to their own devices once they were inside the warren. Phex and Missit had automatically followed Quasilun, trotting to keep up with the bodyguard’s long strides.
Now, finally, they were entering a cave bigger and more impressive than any that had come before. This one was teeming with Dyesi talking, playing, and moving about.
There, off to one side in an impressive group, were the breeder imagoes.
Even Phex could not hide his shock.
2
CAVE OF EVERLASTING SONG
Quasilun, as an imago, looked substantially different from all other Dyesi Phex had ever met. Nearly twice as big as the nymphs of the species, with hard pearl-grey skin that lacked iridescence, and yellow eyes. But Phex hadn’t realized that the three imago types would also look different from each other.
Quasilun, as a protector imago, while different from the nymphs, was still clearly a Dyesi. Basically humanoid but stretched and elongated and entirely hairless, with those too-big eyes, expressive crests like fish fins off both ears, and a way of moving that spoke to joints that flexed in multiple directions.
The breeder imagoes, on the other hand, looked like they could have belonged to entirely different species. Some part of Phex had assumed the distinction was mainly gender and culture based, but it turned out physical appearance played an important role. He didn’t know why he was surprised – physical appearance was always a big deal with Dyesi.
“They’re massive!” Phex had to make a conscious effort to close his mouth, left open in shock.
Missit, who had lived with the Dyesi before becoming a god, found Phex’s reaction highly amusing.
Missit corrected Phex’s pronouns to the plural for she. “Those are all females. The ones you’re looking at are actually smaller, younger imagoes. Those ladies can still fit through the passageways, and they have all come to visit this cave to see us perform, I suspect. See how the ladies are all sort of piled in and on top of that big pearl-colored mound? That mound is actually a matriarch imago. She’ll shake them off once they’re done gossiping. She’ll be the one in charge of this warren, and the origin of our invitation. We will be formally introduced to her before we’re allowed to do anything else here.”
Phex had learned that imago breeders were classified as H10, which meant they were unable to leave their planet. Usually, an H10 meant that the alien could not breathe the same air as Sapiens. But in this case, it clearly meant that a matriarch breeder could not, physically, leave her cave, let alone the planet. The Dyesi became one with their caves because they grew too big to escape them.
The matriarch and the smaller female imagoes did look basically like Dyesi nymphs in skeletal structure and form – big-eyed and hairless – but like Quasilun their skin had a hard sheen to it. That skin was mainly shades of white and grey, lighter than Quasilun’s, but even the smallest was at least twice Quasilun’s height and girth. They were simply big – big like the megafauna above ground were big.
Several nymphs danced attendance on the matriarch and her visitors, polishing the ladies to a mirror-like sheen. Phex realized that they were primping before a party.
Phex felt a little embarrassed, like he’d stumbled into the wrong pantheon’s dressing room.
“Should we be here?”
Missit grinned. “They’re having a spa day.”
“A what?”
“Never mind, sweetie.”
“Where are the male imagoes?” Phex asked.
“There are a few over in that corner. They tend to be darker grey and smaller. There will be fewer of them in general.”
“Why?” They looked very like the younger females, just a few shades darker, and like the ladies had no obvious genitalia or secondary sex characteristics. Or clothing, for that matter.
Quasilun, hovering behind them, joined the conversation at that juncture. “Because there are fewer of them after instar. Breeders number well over sixty-six percent female.”
Phex wondered if that genetically impacted breeding numbers for survival. But figured it probably didn’t, since the Dyesi seemed to be doing pretty well with regards to population. He supposed that it all rather depended on how many offspring could result from any given breeding session.
Ripping his eyes away from the imagoes, Phex spent some time just standing and looking around. He found the cave restful and pleasingly pretty. The nymphs, dodging in about the imagoes, made for elegant fluid purples, blues, and greens within a backdrop of imago grey and the grey of the cave itself.
Phex examined the cave walls, noting how different it was from those that they’d traveled through to get there.
This one seemed the most like a dome. It was a great deal less regular in shape than any dome he’d ever been in, as one might expect of an organically formed cave rather than a constructed edifice. But something about it still felt familiar. The reeds bringing in air and light were interspersed throughout, much like observation niches in domes. Instead of scale-like symmetrical panels neatly covering the interior, this cave was lined with huge irregular panels. But it still felt very much like dome technology. These were all slightly different shades of that familiar dormant pearly silvery material, but it was definitely the same material.
Phex wondered how they would reflect skinsift when each one started out a slightly different shade. Maybe the whole color-and-pattern experience was simply different down there. Phex did not understand how dome tech worked. It was a secret the Dyesi kept from everyone, even their gods.
Phex felt there was something beautiful about the cave’s imperfections. It was not incurring the same awesome reverence as the cathedral domes, but instead had a homey, satisfying aura that made the space feel friendly and comforting.
The dais at the far end from where the matriarch and her friends lounged was equally organic and irregular in shape. Nothing more than a mesa-like boulder jutting up from the cave floor. It looked like it was flat enough on the top for them to dance, but Phex still worried about some of the choreography working there – his wall runs and flips had been designed for smooth-sided, regular-shaped domes. They really must practice before their performance. And how could they do so in such chaos as this cave, surrounded by curious Dyesi?
“Will they be staying here during our practice?” he wondered.
Quasilun said, “The matriarch never leaves. And the others will remain in attendance since they came expressly to visit her.”
Phex nodded, nervous. He didn’t want an audience to see him imperfect, stumbling, and making mistakes. He didn’t even like it when Missit saw him do that.
“They will not mind seeing both practice and performance. The experience will not be ruined thorough lack of surprise,” explained Missit, picking up on some of Phex’s concern.
Quasilun clicked agreement. “That is not how Dyesi experience the divine.”
“But our duet is not divine.” Phex bit his bottom lip.
“It feels that way to me sometimes.” Missit was being flirtatious.
“It is only a song and a dance.” Phex looked to Quasilun for support.
“Nothing is ever simple when gods are involved.” Quasilun, like Missit, could be sublimely unhelpfully sometimes.
Phex sneezed.
The earthy, savory smell was stronger in this cave. Also, there seemed to be a smoky quality. Phex wondered where the Dyesi kitchens were. “Do we wait for an introduction or can I go check the dais?”
“Impatient Phex.” Missit sounded fond.
Phex was uncomfortable, not impatient. He needed something to do. Something useful. He wished he were making everyone drinks. Even if that took the form of some weird Dyesi kitchen. Practicing their duet would be the next best thing. At least it was familiar.
Quasilun said, “Wait,” with flat crests that brooked no argument.
Phex tried to coach his own body into stillness, like holding grace.
There came a low, humming rumble, and then the dozen or so smaller females began to tumble to the side, revealing the enormous matriarch they’d been cuddling with in all her glory. She was lying on one side and had an upper arm the size of Phex’s whole body. She was still humanoid, just almost sculpturally large. With that hard shimmery skin, it was as if she had been carved from some massive gemstone boulder that was part of the cave wall. She was similar in coloration and steeped in repose. A recumbent giantess, like some ancient rock-hone sculpture, essentially humanoid but awe inspiring and grooved into the earth as if she had not moved for generations. And perhaps she had not.
She was pretty. Stunning, even. For some reason Phex hadn’t expected that. But there she lay, beautiful in the way Dyesi gods were beautiful, elegant and big-eyed, and perfectly sculpted by refined aesthetics, a living piece of art.
Quasilun did something then that they had never done before. They had been in and out of many caves and entrances throughout the warren thus far but never announced themselves.
Now, this time, the imago gave voice and title, loudly, to its relationship with the cave.
“Quasilun. Protector imago. Bodyguard to Asterism, pantheon of the divinity. I was born to these caves and I will die of them. For now, I return as friend to all Dyesi but no longer family.”
Phex thought that was an interesting way of putting it. He wondered if all protector imagoes gave up their rights to a home cave, or if that only applied to those few who took to the stars.
The matriarch crested with slow formality at Quasilun but said nothing, waiting. Her crests, like everything else about her were enormous, like ship’s sails, and while the membrane was still thin, it was no longer iridescent. The rainbows they cast over a whole corner of the cave were diffuse and soft and greyscale, like a pattern made of rain on still water.
Quasilun gestured Missit and Phex forward.
Missit stood slightly in front, and made his introduction to the cave. It mirrored the pattern already ingrained into Phex from entering rooms, first on Divinity 36 and then on the spaceship. So, he wasn’t nervous.
Missit used frozen register, highly formalized. “Missit. God of the pantheon Tillam. I am a stranger to this place.”
Phex immediately mimicked Missit’s register and words. “Phex. Demigod of the pantheon Asterism. I am a stranger to this place.”
The matriarch spoke then, her register frozen, her words loud and amplified by the cave. “Kumaimi. Matriarch of this place. I was born to these caves and I will die of them. Welcome to our home.” Her voice was like Quasilun’s, full and extremely musical with two distinct tones at once, as if two people were speaking in unison. Or as if two cantors, high and low, were harmonizing.
She switched registers then, lowering her volume, her speech turned casual as if talking to children. Phex supposed that is what he and Missit would seem to her – both by age and appearance. “You are both so cute. Missit, I know, is a child of the Hu-core home system, but you, Phex, to whom do you belong?”
Phex considered this, looked to Quasilun for help.
The imago’s face and crests were neutral.
So Phex said, “To you, I suppose, if you will have me.”
The matriarch looked neither startled nor offended – her crest stayed up and neutral, which Phex took as a good sign.
“Curious creature,” she said. “But I have not met many Sapiens. What do you mean?”
“I am a Dyesi citizen. A former refugee,” Phex explained.
“But you cannot be a Dyesi if you have no cave. There is no such thing.”
Phex gestured with his hand to Quasilun, “And yet there stands a caveless protector imago.”
The matriarch huffed a laugh. The Dyesi all around, imago or nymph, relaxed perceptibly. All of them had been stiff-crested and tense until that moment. “Could you also protect us if needed, little blue Sapien?”
Phex knew that he could. He could sing the Dyesi into immobility, and presumably, he could sing them into motion. With Missit, in a dome, he was just that powerful. Hadn’t Quasilun said that imagoes were the first cantors?
“With Missit, yes, I could.” I can also fight, Phex wanted to add, but didn’t. He didn’t think the capacity for violence was valuable in the eyes of the Dyesi.
Matriarch Kumaimi huffed again. “Bold claims from one so small and thin-skinned.”
“Is that not why you invited us to perform?”
The matriarch fairly sparkled with delight, and her crests went puffy. Apparently, even matriarchs found Phex amusing. To the Dyesi, Phex was nothing more than a small walking, talking joke – a jester god.
“My stars, this one is adorable, isn’t he? I can see why the nymphs recruited him. And such pretty blue hair. Not that you are anything to sneeze at, golden child.” Kumaimi pointed her crests at Missit, rustling the air in the cave and thus Missit’s hair. “You are, after all, the darling of all the caves of Dyesid.”
Missit preened. “Yes, I know. I don’t mind it if you admire Phex. I too think that he is adorable.”
“Missit,” hissed Phex, embarrassed.
The matriarch only seemed more delighted with them both – her crests gave a little wiggle of pleasure.
Missit inclined his head to hide a broad grin and asked politely, “May we check out the dais and do some test runs, matriarch? Phex has never performed in a true cave before. He is nervous.”
“So cute. Of course you may, sweethearts. And then perhaps you both will join me for a nice meal?” It was not a request, but she was granting them a respite and a breather. Phex was grateful for small mercies.
“It would be our honor,” Missit responded for both of them. Much to Phex’s relief. He would far rather Missit did the bulk of the talking.
Kumaimi turned her attention back to Quasilun. “You may stay and entertain me in the interim, protector.”
Quasilun huffed. “A poor and ugly substitute, no doubt.”
The matriarch’s crests did not deflate, so this was Dyesi humor. “I will ruin my eyes, then, for the sake of a dear old friend with much to tell me concerning the wide avenue of the stars.”
Quasilun clicked, crests puffy. Were they flirting? “Do I get tea?”
The matriarch made some graceful gesture and several of the nymphs ran off. “Of course you do, dear heart.”
Phex and Missit made their escape to the other end of the cave. There they ran through practice – just the dance components of their duet. Phex figured singing would be the same no matter the irregularities of the cave.
Fortunately, running this cave’s wall was not so difficult as he had anticipated. Even more fortunately, those who gathered to observe seemed to find Phex’s use of their dome as a kind of springboard-meets-exercise-equipment amusing rather than offensive.
The dais itself was actually fun. It was larger than dome standard, so they had to lengthen strides, but after half a dozen run-throughs, both Phex and Missit felt like they had it down.
“What were you doing up there?” asked one of the nymphs pertly, after they’d jumped down, sweaty and happily exhausted.
Missit took the container of drying sand it offered and brushed himself with it. “It is an ancient Sapien art called dancing.”
“It is graceful, but it has no grace.”
Missit cocked his head and said, in a challenging way, “Who says that beauty is the only thing with multiple facets?”
The nymph in question looked startled but not upset. “Is it like that with cantor, too?”
“Yes, indeed. For our performance later, we will also sing.”
“Which is?”
“Cantor without skinsift.”
“What’s the point?” A different nymph came over then. Phex could tell, by the thinness of both Dyesi’s bones and the way they were not so elegant as the others, that these two were very young nymphs. Perhaps only recently out of their first instar.
“Watch and you will see,” said Missit, not bothering to hide a smile this time.
The two nymphs folded their crests, a posture that was almost subservient.
“Gods truly are magical creatures,” said one.
“Are you like this because you are gods or because you are Sapiens?” asked the other.
Even awed, they remained curious.
Quasilun appeared. “You cannot expect gods to reveal all their secrets, younglings, especially when you have been called to witness their performance later. Surely, all secrets are revealed on the dais and not through mere conversation?”
“You are right, of course, protector. One should not try to understand art before experiencing it.”
“Very good, little one. And now, please excuse us? These two have been working hard for many hours – they must be fed. The matriarch, you understand, requests their presence.”
The two nymphs immediately moved away. “Of course, protector.”
Phex was grateful that his time on Divinity 36 had somewhat prepared him for cave culture. He had not eaten all the different types of Dyesi food – for surely there were as many different cuisines and variations as on any other planet, but he was at least accustomed to the Dyesi palate. He had cooked for Jinyesun, Fandina, and other Dyesi potentials regularly once. He knew that by most Sapien standards, the Dyesi preferred things less sweet and less salty. He knew that spud starch featured prominently in their diet, and that he himself was a fan of the mashed savory porridge variant. Phex found it comforting, and was delighted to see it grace their welcome meal. He liked how the porridge was served in a communal manner with various sour pickled vegetables and seared meats as toppings. This allowed him to simply pick and choose whatever he wished.
Still, there was more food set out before the matriarch and her guests than Phex had ever seen in one place in his entire life. The vast majority of it he did not recognize. He followed Missit’s lead on the porridge toppings. He and Missit did not have the same tastes, but at least if Missit ate it, Phex knew it wouldn’t give him indigestion.
