You sit and wait in Kali’s living room, legs crossed and hands clasped in your lap. Kali bustles about in the kitchen, fixing you a drink. You glance at your watch – an elegant silver bracelet with a small oval face – wondering what is keeping Joe. Mr Durras, you correct yourself. Rick’s been riding you hard about your false identities since you showed up in LA last week for this assignment. Keeping in character, apparently, is something you need to do better.
“Thank you Kali,” you say in a clear, accentless voice as Kali places a jug of water on the coffee table in front of you. It’s the voice you’ve chosen for this new identity you’ve constructed: Crisp and well spoken, someone who values clarity in the spoken word. Perfect then, for someone who works as a translator.
The front door finally opens and Joe waltzes in. He’s at least half an hour late, but you suppress any sense of irritation. You are now a cool, calm, professional – so that’s how you’ll act. You get to your feet and walk across the room to meet him, low heels clicking on Kali’s hardwood floor.
“Mr Durras,” you say, extending a golden hued hand to Joe. “It’s great to finally meet you. I’m Wendy Yè, your translator.”
Joe gives you an odd look before taking your hand and shaking it gently. You can feel him sizing you up, looking at the lustrous blue-black hair pinned up at the top of your head, the immaculate yet under stated makeup that adorns your thirty-something face and the expensive tailored suit that hugs close to your athletic figure. If asked you would say that it was earned through rigorous exercise and frequent gym visit. The truth is that Wendy is another cobbled together identity. Several strangers are represented in her face and her personality and skills are the sum of several others.
“Will,” asks Joe uncertainly. That’s a triumph in itself, planting just enough confusion for Joe not to be sure that it’s really you.
You want to go the extra mile though. “I’m sorry, I understood that your first name was Joseph Mr Durras.”
“It is,” he replies a little startled. “I was just asking… never mind.” He gives Kali a puzzled look.
“Blame Rick,” says Kali exasperatedly. “He has persuaded Will that he needs to better develop his characterisation. And to not break that character if at all possible.”
Joe points a disbelieving finger at you. “Then that’s…” he begins.
“I am right here Mr Durras,” you say coolly.
“That’s pretty amazing Will. You almost had me.”
“Forget the almost,” he say, finally allowing yourself to crack a smile. “I had you and I can do it any time I want to.” Joe rolls his eyes. “Is this good enough,” you continue, gesturing at yourself. “You said you wanted me in an unbreakable cover identity as a translator.”
“Chinese,” he asks.
“Fluent in both Mandarin and Cantonese,” you reply. “Which I’m willing to bet you can speak yourself.” He nods. “So are you going to explain what this is all about?”
“Kali’ll explain it better than me,” says Joe flopping into a seat. He rests his feet on the coffee table and leans back with his eyes closed.
“Joe,” shouts Kali, aghast. He opens one eye to glance at her before hurriedly moving his feet. “Sit down,” she says to you apologetically. “This may take some time.” You reluctantly sit next to Joe, who barely notices your presence. Kali sits down opposite, steepling her fingers as she thinks on where to begin.
“I told you when you first came to me that the Stellae could trace their roots back to Achaemenid Persia, before eventually migrating westwards into the late Roman Empire. We have been embedded into European and middle eastern civilisation since then. But I also mentioned that the early Stellae had encountered practitioners from the eastern traditions as well,” explains Kali, her delivery polished by years of teaching junior Stellae.
“Two principle eastern traditions exist today. The Akshardham are rooted in a polytheistic Hindu understanding of the ousiarchs, linking them to the gods rather than the planets.” Joe opens his eyes and sits forward, his mouth open and ready to interject. “Yes I am aware you could argue that the ousiarchs represent the Greco-Roman pantheon Joe. But the early Stellae looked to the stars even then, and it was the stars, not the Zoroastrianism practised in Persia that informed their philosophy.”
Joe leans back and Kali folds her arms before continuing. “Although we do not always get on smoothly with the Akshardham, their philosophy is sufficiently similar to ours as to make relations cordial. In practice we have worked as partners since the Seven Years War…”
“French and Indian War,” interrupts Joe, sticking his finger in the air. To be honest, you have heard of neither.
“Whatever you want to call it,” continues Kali. “However, the Great Sages of The Heavenly Court are a different matter. Our relations are… prickly… to say the least. The first problem is that China has always been an insular country, some times more than others. It wasn’t incorporated into European empires in the same way that most of the rest of the world was. We have talked less and worked together less than we have with other traditions.”
“The other problem,” adds Kali. “Is that they have an unusual understanding of the ousiarchs. We Stellae say that there are ten ousiarchs and that you have two of them. The Akshardham would say that you walk with two of the gods. The Great Sages say that there are over forty great sages and that you are a student of one of them.”
“How does that work,” you ask, furrowing your perfectly plucked eyebrows.
“Each sage is a combination of ousiarchs,” explains Kali. “Putting it simply, what we would call a Malacandra and Arbol, the Great Sages would refer to as a student of Sun Tzu, but this is over simplifying it. Complicating matters is that sometimes their sages are genuine historical figures like Sun Tzu and Lu Ban…”
“Malacandra and Kenandandra,” mutters Jow
“…and others are mythological figures like the Jade Emperor…”
“Arbol and Glundandra, like Dad,” interrupts Joe.
“For pity’s sake Joseph, do not say that when you meet them,” scolds Kali. “That’s not even the most maddening thing about them: It is that some sages that do not match up to two ousiarchs at all. Some seem to match up only to one, others to as many as three and some are even duplicates of existing combinations. Sun Wukong, for example seems to be both a Sulva as well as everything else all at once…” Kali drifts off and stares at you thoughtfully.
“This is all very interesting,” you say. “But why is it important?”
“Because we’re going on a journey to the east,” explains Joe. “The Stellae and the Great Sages haven’t been talking much since the Cultural Revolution. Dad’s decided it’s time to change that so I’m going out there as a diplomat.”
You look at Joe incredulously. The word ‘you’ forms on the tip of your tongue, ready to roll out in a tone of disbelief. You’re just too polite to let it. “Difficult as it might be to believe,” says Kali drolly. “Joe’s ousiarchs actually make him ideally suited to the task.”
“I guess that makes sense,” you reply. “But why all the cloak and dagger with needing a translator?”
“Dad asked if he could send a partner along with me and they straight up refused. It might be an insult, it might be paranoia, who knows?” Joe shrugs expressively. “So Dad asked if he could send along a translator…”
“Which you don’t actually need,” you interrupt.
“Which I don’t need,” confirms Joe in Mandarin, grinning smugly. He switches back to English before continuing. “They never said that my translator couldn’t be a Stellae.”
“So your dad is ok with me doing this,” you ask, worrying if this is one of those times when Joe is being too clever for his own good.
“It was his idea,” answers Joe, his grin widening to the point where it threatens to split his face in half. “This way I get back up in case things go to hell…”
“Which you won’t need,” you mutter to yourself. It may or may not be true but it’s certainly what Joe will think.
“…and we don’t offend the Sages.”
“Things always go to hell,” says Rick dourly as he walks in the front door. He throws a heavy manila envelope in your lap. “Passports, IDs, everything you need Wendy,” he says pointedly.
“Thank you Mr Bredon,” you say stiffly, slipping back into character. Wendy, you decide, would be torn between being polite and formal and her distaste for Rick’s appearance. “It seems that I have a flight to catch.”
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author