The Book of Transformations by Mark Charan Newton Read Free Book Online

just some one . Shalev was thought to have killed several people through her erratic practices. She was an unstable person, who did not fit in with our ways despite being brought up here, for the most part. Shalev is not an indigenous cultist. She came from a neighbouring island. She was difficult for many here to understand, and she was never popular because of that. Then her experiments became more reckless, and civilians were killed due to some of her relics. She failed to accept responsibility for her actions, and was exiled from all the communities across the island.’
    ‘Where do you think she’s gone now?’ Lan asked.
    Cayce glanced down at the table. This was the first time she had seen him lose his cool demeanour. ‘Shalev always talked about hurting the Empire – in fact, this was a contributing factor to her being exiled. Shalev wanted to impose our own systems elsewhere – as there has been much talk amongst our own people over the centuries of doing the same. But Shalev wanted to use violence to achieve this, which contradicts our way of life. So, in answer to your question, I fear she has headed to Imperial soil.’
    *
    Cayce walked her back to a hab, both of them harmlessly giddy on the local alcohol. It was still humid despite being deep into the evening, and as they stepped across the firm decking, Lan quizzed Cayce relentlessly. ‘Why help me, Cayce? I want to know. I’m just a nobody, so why? Please, be honest.’
    ‘You are quite the solipsistic lady.’
    ‘No, it’s not that. I want to know who the person was who helped me. Who you really were, before I walk back to that cold island on the other side of the Archipelago possibly never to see you again.’
    Cayce gazed at her for some time and gestured for her to enter the hab. Hesitantly she shuffled inside. The darkness abated as he lit a lantern, and the soft glow warmed his anxious face.
    Everything inside looked carved from the forest, from the floors to the furniture. Pinned up against the walls were detailed diagrams of the human body, in one corner a stack of books leaned over precariously, whilst thick bundles of paper were scattered haphazardly across the floor. A window faced out across the dark forest crown.
    He drew curtains across the window to block out the night, and bolted the door shut – suddenly Lan grew fearful.
    ‘Sit,’ he instructed, and she quickly collapsed into a wooden chair by the desk.
    He stood before her, sliding off his white robe. Then he commenced unbuttoning his undershirt.
    She froze, said nothing. Is he going to hurt me?
    Very slowly he peeled back his shirt and dropped it to the floor in a pool of his clothes.
    Lan’s jaw dropped.
    Scar tissue blossomed around his deltoid muscles, and between there and his pectorals she could see severe blistering – no, the faint bubbles of suction cups, some even protruding, pushing up through human skin. He had been very grotesquely altered. The colour of his arms was noticeably lighter than around his abdomen – they did not look to be his own.
    He watched her watching him and she began to apologize pathetically for her stunned reaction. From her of all people.
    ‘Now you have seen,’ Cayce whispered dolefully. ‘I . . . I was once a Ceph. I once swam underwater with them. I understand, to some extent, how you yourself feel. I longed to be human – deep within me I felt such a distance from the sea. I hated the cold depths. I craved light and knowledge, the land and human culture. I left my people, and am shunned by them now, for they do not appreciate the ways of this island. They are brutal and simple people. At a very young age I was made human by the cultists here, and given all the accoutrements of a human being. I became one of them, I learned their languages and their ways and practised until no one could tell me apart from any other. I grew to be who I am now, and it was not easy, but among this society I was welcomed, and that . . . that