Over the Woods to Grandmama's House

“Long distance flights,” Toby thought to herself, “are no fun. After the first few hours, flapping is tiring, and soaring is boring.” She didn’t even have the distraction of watching for landmarks. Once her internal guidance system locked on to the destination she would not, could not, get lost. Even spinning in the grip of a small tornado – an experiment she had tried when much younger and less wise – she could unerringly point to her chosen destination.

Bereft of immediate challenge, she decided to review as much as she could remember of the interplanar legal Code. After all, she had no idea what the contract her Grandmama was involved with might concern, but at least she knew that the task after that would require finessing the Code.

Like most sentients, or at least most sentients who are aware of the multi-planar nature of the universes, she had known about the Code for most of her life. It was as much a part of her childhood as learning first the true numbers – base 12 to match the proper number of draconic digits – and then the common numbers – the strange base 10 system that, thanks to humans, was used for all interplanar commerce. The Code, like the common numbers, was partly an artifact of humans. Unlike more sensible species, they required a great deal of extrinsic regulation to keep their societies in order.

As a nestling, she had asked her mother why such silly creatures were allowed to run their own parts of the universes. It would make so much more sense to appoint a few senior dragons, or even some singularly wise elves, to rule over them and keep them in line. Her mother had smiled, ruefully, and explained, “We have tried that, in times distant past. It does not work. They are indeed silly, but it is their exuberant creativity that keeps the planes multiplying properly. If they are enslaved – or at least if they are enslaved by those other than themselves – they pine and lose that creativity.”

“What do you mean, Mama? I thought the planes just … grew like this.” Toby had asked.

“Many believe that the planes are, and always have been the same. Those who know that they are both infinite and multiplying, often believe that every decision spawns a new plane for each possible choice. We dragons, perhaps because we originated on some of the oldest planes, were the first to discover the truth. It is not choice that splits worlds into planes, even the most momentous seeming choices – whether or not an assassin chooses to pull the trigger, or a doctor to cure a disease – cause only the tiniest differences in a world. There seems to be an inherent conservative force that ensures that histories remain parallel and merge back together as quickly as they are split. If the mother of one dictator or inventor or artist decides not to bear that child, another child somewhere else changes his or her pattern to rule or invent or create.”

“But then how are new planes created?”

“When artists create something new – a new world, or just a new race or species – that cannot coincide with their world as it is, a plane is created. If the artist creates well, the plane can be self-supporting. If she creates superbly, her idea will be embraced by other artists who expand on it, or change it in ways that create further planes. After has existed for longer than any other being I know of, he remembers his most aged ancestor telling him of a time when there was but one draconic plane. Possibly only one plane at all other than the original. Back then, dragons mostly walked on their hind legs. Some had wings, but most did not. We were not a creation of humans. We came to life in the legends of the lizards who once dominated the original world. A great meteor killed them off, and for many eons we believed we might be the only sentient beings that would ever exist.”

Toby’s mother stopped for a moment, to allow the grim thought of those silent years to sink in. Then she resumed, “We are lucky that we are blessed with a love for telling our own histories – even so, with no new tales, and no new tellers, the draconic plane began to dim. Then, when we had almost given up hope, a group of upstart monkeys started learning how to speak, and tell each other tales. By then, we had mastered travel between our plane and theirs, initially looking for survivors of the meteor strike, and then mourning our creators. Humans did not need to invent us, we visited them in various forms and embedded ourselves into their imaginations. Instead they invited us to play with other races they invented: dwarves and elves, angels and demons, unicorn and were-beast. They created sentients whose planar worlds grew strong and complex long before the humans who invented them achieved sufficient wisdom to understand what they were creating. The original world now has such strong barriers against extraplanar visitors that, in fact, we are not certain whether or not they have grown to understand yet.”

“But if we can’t go there, why are their people everywhere on our worlds?” Toby asked.

“Some of them do learn how to travel between planes and choose to leave their home world. Mostly, though, they tend to create worlds that include themselves. No matter how precariously they may exist in some of the planes they have created, they always seem to need to place themselves in their own narratives. By and large we try to help any sentient born into some of the stranger dystopic planes. Some accept assistance and move to more pleasant lives – others do not. Humans, as I’ve said before, are an often silly lot.”

“So then Great-grandad After and his friends had to invent and impose the Code to make them all behave more sensibly?”

“Essentially, yes, Toby. Though it was more complicated than that. It was not mere silly behaviour that showed the necessity for a Code. Planar travel was easier then, and the clashes between dystopia and eutopia or between science worlds and magic worlds were ugly. Then an angel scientist discovered a way to destroy planes – in his words he wished to rid the universe of that which was unholy. Fortunately enough, he didn’t understand the depth of the planes. He managed to eradicate more than a dozen, but did not specifically target the deeper older planes. It was more accident than anything else that he destroyed the original plane of unicorns. Yet the destruction of that one plane did more to break everyone out of their complacency than the destruction of all the others combined. He was contained. Exiled to a solitary plane, invented for that specific purpose, while mages and scientists of the mind collaborated to ensure the universal forgetting of his name and co-ordinates. Out of that collaboration came the understanding that we can and must have ways of working together – even though most of us choose not to interact with those from strongly different planes.”

“So THEN Great-grandad After invented and imposed the Code?”

“Yes, indeed.” her voice was all crinkly, and Toby knew her mother was half laughing at her. “Then a group of sentients from all the known planes gathered to create the Code. After was the draconic representative, and as one of the older people there, representing the oldest sentient species, he was rather influential on the final design of the Code.”

A sudden blast of wind and rain tore Toby from her reminiscence. A quick check reassured her that she was still on course, and another confirmed that her packs were still tightly sealed against the weather. She had already crossed the great river, and, peering through the cloud and rain, could see the shoreline ahead.

Toby absentmindedly corrected her course slightly further east, her thoughts full of the magnificent fireplaces and generously dragon-sized dinners that were the high point of visits to her Grandmama. She only hoped that no adventurer had decided to camp on the doorstep. The house was almost always there for Toby, even when she was younger and fleeing exams. Even when her parents, or After, suggested strongly that Grandmama not encourage Toby’s flights. But the house was quite capable of being not there, and usually was when adventurers or tourists came calling. It made sense, really, as long as she remembered that the house had to be several other places as well.

Fortune was with Toby. She dropped lower as she came to the first branch of the ocean that filled the “Y” shaped bay, and veered slightly to aim at the cliff top landing at the centre of the “Y”. She could see lights streaming from the palatial house as well as from this world’s guise of the temple. Obviously the Most Venerable Kami of the Tides Unstoppable was at home, and ready to entertain her wayward grand-daughter.