“As pleasant as a twilight picnic is, I’m full of berries, now,” Ormar sighed. “Where are we headed?”
“Back to Rolof’s croft, for the time being. Then tomorrow we’ll head back to the Cave of the Ancients and put this thing in a safe place,” I said, trying to hide my discomfort at my recent conversation. “If we start out now, we can make it back by midnight. If we don’t get lost in the dark,” I added, as the light faded around us.
“I will guide you,” Bomoadua offered, extending a small branch down to our level. It had a kind of translucent nut or fruit on the end. I thought it was an eyestalk, for a moment, but then it began to glow, softly at first, then more brightly. In seconds the apple-like lantern was bright enough to read by.
“That’s a handy trick, without magic,” Ormar said, impressed.
“We don’t often require light,” explained the Lesh, “but sometimes it is helpful. I will take you to your horses.”
Rolof gave her a formal bow. “My friend, once again I thank you and your people for your hospitality and assistance.”
“It has been very pleasant having you here in the Leshwood, animals,” the tree said. “And very interesting.”
I should have gone to sleep the moment we returned to the croft, high up on the ridge. I was exhausted, after the events of the day – the Court, the Grandfather Tree, fighting a giant maggot, the parley with Pritikin – but after I settled my horse for the night, I felt compelled to make a hike up the ridge on my own.
The moon was just over the southern horizon, a slender crescent that hovered over Grost Kilnuskum and the ridges beyond. I thought about the other moon, the tiny green one that the ancestors of the Leshi came here on, countless years ago. I’d seen it often when I was in Farise. We were too far north, here, to see it. I wondered what it meant, to the Leshi and the other Met Sakinsa. I guessed it was, for them, the same symbol that the New Horizon was for us humans – at least, those of us who knew about it. A bit of the homeworld in the sky, a reminder that we came from somewhere else. We were not native to Callidore but came here of our own volition.
Or maybe they didn’t consider it at all. That got me thinking about how the trees think of the stars, and vice versa, and other useless stuff and I realized that I was, indeed, exhausted.
But my legs carried me to the little clearing that Rolof had shown me. The outline of stones was still there, of course. The tiny crack in the jevolars’ field where magic – a tiny, meager bit, but magic – could be attempted.
I could not help myself. I had traveled far and fought hard for Stonetrunk’s heart. I carefully unwrapped it, though it was thick and far from fragile, and laid it, precisely in the center of the tiny three-foot gap. Then I dug the Magolith out of my pack. Holding the quietly throbbing irionite sphere in my left hand, I knelt and touched the rod with my right.
I took care in drawing the whisp of power I could manage from the Magolith, and slowly fed it into the rod. To my surprise, it seemed to accept the flow with ease . . . and began affecting my vision in the process. Perhaps it was the midnight gloom, but as the nocturnal insects throbbed in the background, for the first time in weeks I was able to use magesight . . . sort of. I couldn’t see much, in that space, but by touching the rod suddenly I saw faint tendrils of power around the clearing.
It wasn’t the ordinary representations of arcane energy, either. There were other types of power flowing, modes I could not identify and that didn’t seem to have any order to them – or, perhaps, my perception was so cramped by the jevolars that I just did not have the scale to appreciate the order I was seeing. They were mere whispers of power, compared to what I was used to seeing, but they were there.
So was something else, I noticed, as I began an elementary thaumaturgic assay of the rod. Thankfully, most of the simpler ones require very little power. But while I was examining the interior structure, I noticed an aberration. There seemed to be a kind of focus within the core of the thing that suggested a deep and strong connection to somewhere else. I found that intriguing. It was a pity that I did not have the power available for a more in-depth survey.
There was no doubt in my mind that this was a powerful arcane substance. If it could detect and track divine magic, then it very well could provide the answers we needed to complete the snowstone spell.
“Find anything?” a quiet voice asked from the darkness. It was Rolof. I’d been so intent on my work that I hadn’t heard him climb the trail.
“It seems to be what we’re looking for,” I informed him, as I rose.
“I figured you would feel compelled to test it at the first opportunity,” he said, with a rare smile. “You’re that kind of wizard.”
“It’s easier to do spells of perception at night,” I shrugged. “And this way it won’t be a worry in my head when I go to sleep. I’ll be able to do a more thorough examination once I get it back to the bouleuterion in Vanador.”
“I still can’t believe you built a bouleuterion,” he said, shaking his head.
“I’ve built two, technically. And an academy for thaumaturgy,” I added.
“And they let you. As jaded as I might be, that surprises me.”
“I didn’t exactly ask for permission,” I explained. “I just did it. Without the Censors to object, I didn’t need to ask. Besides, I’m officially a member of the Royal Court, as titular head of the Arcane Orders. I’m the fellow I’d have to ask permission from.”
“Two bouleuterions and a thaumaturgic academy,” he chuckled. “Anything else?”
“I’m organizing a couple of magical academies, building a castle out of a mountain, and I’ve built about a dozen temples, now – I forget just how many. Two magical towns. A couple of armies. A string of political alliances. Magical chamberpots. This thing,” I said, hefting the Magolith. “Some pretty slick weapons. Too much to explain, actually. You should really see it for yourself. Warmagi are extremely powerful, now. I built my army around them. You’d be welcome.”
“I’m more footwizard than warmage, now,” he said, shaking his head.
“I have need of those, as well,” I pointed out. “Hells, I just need good men I can trust. I have lots of enemies and plenty of opportunities. Besides, you can’t stay in Anghysbel forever.”
He sighed. “Before you came with that bad news, I had considered doing just that. I’m not certain I could face the real world, now,” he admitted. “It’s only been six months or so since I finally mastered . . . the voices. The memories. You have no idea how hellish it is to have seven other people – some of them not even people – vying for your mind’s attention.”
“Do you know their names?” I asked, curiously.
“Lord Andromain. Gauslin Aka. Vercrel. F’sara of Tren. Captain Henrietta Sturnbeck. Lathkellmineresk. Mist-of-cool-wetness. I don’t just know their names,” he explained, “I know everything that ever happened to them. Their childhoods. Their sexual maturity. Their mates. Their . . . their loves. Their tragedies. Their mistakes. Their failures. Their despair,” he said, with a shudder. “For a year and a half I fought with them. Learned from them. Wept for them. They are all long-dead, but they are as real to me as you are. More so.”
“That would drive a man mad,” I agreed, sympathetically.
“Do you know what I see when I look at something? That rock, that flower, that crescent moon in the sky – I get seven different sets of associations with each one. Seven different meanings. Lord Andromain sees a poetic motif. Vercrel sees a minor satellite. F’sara of Tren sees a paltry sky, for his world had four moons. Seven versions of memory compete for my attention, until I scarcely know what my own is.”
“How did you overcome it?” I asked, quietly.
“Ameras,” he said, after a long pause. “She nursed me through the worst of it. She’s uncommonly intuitive, even for an Alka Alon. And she was lonely and lost. I gave her something to protect and nurture, and someone to talk with. We saved each other from madness.”
“Was it wor
th it?” I asked, after thinking intently for a while.
“I don’t know,” he confessed, visibly perplexed in the moonlight. “I know so much more, now. But I don’t really know if it was worth it. I have too much . . . too much experience,” he decided. “I came here a man of thirty years. But I find myself possessed of a thousand years of personal experience. It challenges me when I think of such things. The chorus in my head is of different opinions about it, too, which doesn’t help. When it comes down to it, I won’t know if it was worth it until I’m on my deathbed. And I’ll never know what life would have been like without it.”
“You know,” I said, as I hefted the Magolith, “this thing was created largely to help with that kind of problem. It’s done wonders with my wife’s condition, after her . . . accident. It might be able to help you.”
“I’m not certain I can be helped,” he said, with a heavy sigh. “No more than you can.”
“Me?” I asked, surprised. “Why do you think I need help?”
“Because of what you learned at the Court of the Leshi Fathers. You and Lilastien returned to us with some burden you did not leave with. You tried to keep it to yourselves, but . . . well, Vercrel was a kind of Blue Mage, on his world. He knows the mind, and the way it becomes expressed on faces. He knew at once that something had happened, likely that you had gotten some disturbing news.”
I sighed, and my shoulders fell. “I did. So did Lilastien. I’m still trying to digest it. I hope you don’t mind me not discussing it, just yet.”
“Of course,” he agreed. “Every man needs his secrets. Just don’t keep it to yourself longer than you need to. Secrets can fester,” he advised. “They can drive a man mad on their own. Or, worse, into despair.”
“I completely agree. But . . . well, there are weighty matters at hand. I need to think about this, before I reveal it. Not that it will make much difference in the outcome. There are a lot of people depending upon me. I dare not make an error; else entire kingdoms could come crashing down.”
“I do not envy you the responsibility you have taken upon yourself, my friend. Not that you are incapable, but it is clear they have taken a toll. All men suffer from the burdens that they bear.
“You remember the war in Farise: how heavy our packs got, while we marched? I’ve often thought that a useful metaphor, as many of us still seem to be carrying that pack. Only you have added mountains of worry to yours, and I fear that it will break you, if you cannot bear it.”
“I won’t let myself start doubting that I can, otherwise I might realize that I cannot,” I confessed. “But I chose this life,” I decided. “Well, mostly. Except for being conscripted. And then meddled with by Ameras’ sire. But the rest I chose. If my pack of worries seems heavy, know that I cherish everything within and don’t begrudge the effort.”
“Then you are a wiser man than many, Minalan,” Rolof said, slapping me on the shoulder. “Now wrap that thing up and let’s go to bed. I’m about to fall off my feet with weariness.”
It was hard to argue with the wisdom of that.
Chapter Thirty-Four
News From the Sky
The discovery of some remnants of our ancient culture and technology has been essential to the completion of our quests. Forseti’s ability to use his new resources to scout for other remnants that might have survived has provided additional context that frames our ultimate goals, and how we might achieve them. And the promise of new hope to secure the Forsaken makes up, in part, for the disappointment of being unable to open the Alka Alon vault.
But a wizard only has so many opportunities available to him to bring his quests to a satisfactory conclusion. Sometimes he must consider bold and decisive action, though there be risk involved, to complete the tasks he sets for himself. As Fondaras is fond of saying, a true wizard must not just know, he must do. He must not just do, he must dare. And he must not just dare, for many things he must also keep silent. This is the dilemma I am faced with.
from the Expedition Book of Anghysbel,
Recorded by Minalan the Spellmonger
We managed to make it back to the Cave of the Ancients the next afternoon without being attacked by goblins, cyclopes, giant maggots, or lizard people. After leaving our horses with the Kasari outpost at the north of the Hot Lake they ferried us across in good order (although we did have to endure another lecture about boating safety from the smiling youths) and were walking up the long causeway to the cave just after luncheon.
The meadow outside the cave had been transformed into a make-shift mews, as Nattia and Ithalia’s giant birds were stationed there, now. They watched us carefully as we approached the entrance, where Gareth and Nattia were waiting for us.
“You were successful?” the young thaumaturge asked, surprised, as Nattia greeted her brother, and the rest of our party trudged inside.
“Mostly,” I agreed. “Meet Ameras, the scion of the Aronin,” I said, as the little Alka Alon bowed. “And Rolof the Obscure. Our missing High Mage. And we also found the secret vault, the thaumaturgically sensitive substance, and identified the dark forces that the Enshadowed hope to enlist.”
“So why is it only partially successful?” he asked, confused.
“Because we can’t open the godsdamned vault. Ameras doesn’t know how. She was never told by the Aronin. She was just supposed to guard it.”
“Her? A single Alkan female? Without magic?” he asked, skeptically.
“It wasn’t my plan,” I shrugged. “But we met some interesting folk along the way. I’ll tell you all about it tonight at dinner. Where’s Alya?”
“She’s bathing,” he said, blushing a little at the thought. “She’ll be out . . . eventually. She’s missed you a lot,” he added. “She spent a lot of time watching and reading on the screens, though.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised.
“Once I showed her how it worked, and got the translation algorithm working properly, she’s spent six, seven hours a day at it. She asked Forseti a lot of questions. It’s been quite an education for all of us. I’ve been doing . . . well, everything Forseti tells me. But he’s always willing to explain what it is I’m doing, and I’m actually figuring out quite a lot. By the way, he’d like a quick word with you. He has an update. News from the sky,” he said, cryptically.
“I’ll do that,” I agreed. “Any other concerns?”
“Well . . . yes,” he sighed. “There’s been a lot of discussion about the eruption prediction, since you’ve been gone. Word got out to the Kilnusk, the Kasari, and even the Lakeshire Tal. They’re . . . well, they’re not taking it well. They’ve called an emergency meeting at Midmarket, two nights hence. It is recommended that you attend and explain it to them. And what you plan on doing about it.”
“They’ve got to move,” I insisted. “There just is no other way. If they want to live, they have to move.”
“I know,” he agreed. “But that’s going to take an enormous effort. We have to get thousands of them through the wastes and settled into new lands, and as quickly as possible. The wastes will be all but impassable in just a few more weeks. Sooner, if this rain keeps up.”
“I’ll speak to them. I’ll convince them,” I assured him. “I’m . . . I’m going to be putting one of my best people in charge of it. You,” I decided.
“What?” he asked, in disbelief.
“I was thinking about this on the way here, while Fondaras and Rolof traded wizardly wisdom and Lilastien played music for Ameras. You’re the best candidate I have for this sort of coordination effort. You have tremendous organizational abilities, you’re persuasive, you’re intelligent, and you can get it done. In fact, I can’t think of anyone else who could.”
“But . . . but that would mean . . .” he stumbled.
“That would mean that you would have to stay here for an entire year,” I conceded, as we walked back through the cavern. “Living here,” I added. “Having access to all the knowledge of the Ancients, while you’re here.”
“That’s . . . that’s a generous . . . wait, no, you’re flattering me and bribing me to get me to do this!” he accused. “I know this, because that’s what I would do, and I learned that from you!”
“You learned well,” I praised. “Look, I’ll be losing one of my most valuable officials for a year, so it’s really not in my best interest, from one perspective. But if we have any hope of evacuating this valley in good order, it’s going to take an organizational genius. You built a godsdamn city under a rock in the middle of a war, with former slaves, a couple of Wood Dwarves, and magic. I’d say that qualifies you.”
“I had help,” he said, clearly overwhelmed.
“Of course you did. And you’ll have help here, too,” I soothed, as we came to the big steel door. “I think Rolof and Ameras will be staying to help, for instance. Fondaras might, as well. And I could leave you . . . Nattia,” I offered, enticingly.
That took him aback. “I’m not certain she’d stay,” he said, a little stiffly. “Really, Minalan, she’s already talking about how her Mews is likely sliding into the abyss while she’s gone. She likes me, sure, but . . . she loves duty, more,” he said, discouraged.
“Of course she does, she’s a Kasari,” I reminded him, as we threaded our way between the two carriages in the outer room. Both had several panels open, and it was clear that someone had been working on them. “Pentandra has the same issues, sometimes. It can be hard, finding a mate from a different culture. How about I use her as my liaison to the effort? She can fly here in a day or so from Vanador. In fact, if we’re going to coordinate properly, someone is going to have to carry messages back and forth.”
“In any case, I . . . well, let me think about it,” he said, thoughtfully, as we paused between the two big vehicles. “Before you see Forseti and get lost in history, I wanted to show you what I’ve been working on. I’ve got one of these things almost repaired,” he said, proudly. “I got the engine to start this morning. I’m working on the drive train, now. And several of the smaller systems are working. It’s taken awhile, and I’ve had to watch a lot of teaching shows, but I think I can get at least one of them to work, someday.”
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