A Division of Souls - A Novel of the Mendaihu Universe by Jon Chaisson
*
Poe returned from the Crest a little over an hour later, and she filled him in with the details. “Nehalé Usarai,” she said, reading off the man’s CV again. “He’s a Meraladian Mendaihu, a high-level soulhealer, registered sehndayen-ne and has taught in nearly all the Sectors at one point or another, you name it. He’s also a registered Elder, which could make things slippery. Apparently he’s known around McCleever and Waterfront as…well, as a savior. Goes out of his way to treat the downtrodden. Healings, general assistance, the whole lot. Very big on the community service. He owns a few of the old warehouses down there, rents them out seasonally. Reports say he’s been there within the past week as well.”
Poe frowned, leaning back in his chair and taking it all in. “This is too easy,” he huffed. “He’s done everything short of turning himself in.”
Caren shared in his skepticism. “That's what I thought as well…that’s why it’s imperative that we actually follow procedure, make sure we know it’s him. He has an apartment on Jamison Avenue, overlooking Branden Hill Park. I’m expecting he’s already off the grid, but Nick and Sheila are looking into it right now. They also put a highlight on his direct employer, Kindeiya Shalei at DuaLife. Nehalé works in the Re-Gen Therapy department there. Guess he really is a genius at soulhealing, from what info Sheila got out of Kindeiya. He’s supposed to be calling us back.”
He nodded, pleased that the case was moving again. “The meeting up at the Crest went well,” he said as a change of conversation. “Kai and Ashan. Interesting team, those two. Nice people. Take their job very seriously.” He let out a nervous breath. “Let’s just say they gave me an interesting view of the city,” he added quietly, and described to her what he’d gone through and what he’d seen. “Suffice it to say I'm still a bit unsettled by it.”
She stared at him, grinning. “Damn, Poe. You get all the good jobs. I've never experienced that before. What did they have to say?”
“They want a closer view,” he said. “They agree, it’s hinting at another uprising, but they won’t commit to it just yet.”
“It’s frustrating,” she said. “We have a crime, a perpetrator, and the crime scene — but no solid motive. Maybe we’ll get lucky and Kindeiya will spill everything.”
“Wishful thinking,” he laughed, but it was hollow. He was still on edge from his abbreviated journey into that spiritual otherworld, and it showed. He looked around, glancing at the wall vidmat and at the other media screens in the room. “It bothers me as well,” he said in a low tone. “The motive for the awakening ritual. If the One of All Sacred is going to return, now would be a good time to start praying.”
“Goddess, Poe.” Caren stared at him hard. “Don’t even joke about that.”
“I’m not.”
After a pause, she looked away, frustrated. “I don't like this.”
“Neither do I.” They both said nothing for a long while. Poe glanced at their open office door, noticing that the hallway chatter had died out, meaning the governor’s State of the Province speech would start soon. Finally, he stood up, stretched, and leaned over his chair. “What do we have on edha Usarai?” he asked. “I mean, aside from what Nick and Sheila uncovered?”
Caren looked down distractedly at the vidmat in front of her. “I called Peter in Records, he's looking deeper into Usarai’s history.” She paused, thinking. “Usarai, Poe…the ‘knowledge clan,’ right?”
“Well, Usara is,” he nodded. “But Usarai is a sub-clan. I'd assume they're the same, by virtue of heredity. He's definitely intelligent, and he’s definitely a community leader.”
Caren pondered about that for a moment. “That's what I thought,” she said. “I thought of calling Matt about that, see if there's a link between this guy and the Shenaihu. First, though, I need to call DuaLife, see what edha Kindeiya wants to tell me. You want to visit Peter for me? He should have what we want by now.”
Poe reached for his commlink. “I'll page him.”
Peter Fancher ran the Records Department like a library of sacred texts and was not much of a social person at all. Records was housed in a cold, dimly lit seventh floor room, dark except for the soft glow of vidscreens and study lights, and he watched over the library like a hawk. He ran one of the most complete, up to date census and data collections in the Sprawl, barring the Data Research Library. He could get anything within a half hour, and he was thorough. And time was something they did not have. Poe confirmed the data was ready and pocketed his cell phone. “We're good to go,” he said, already halfway out the office door.