The Queen's Quarry

by Frank Morin

  “Is this how you built the others?”

  She shook her head. “Mister Five preferred a different image. I don’t think it worked as well, but he was the master so we ceded to his will. This wall feels better.”

  She stepped to the edge of where the wall should stand and extended a hand. “You are the Builder here, Connor. If you focus, you should be able to sense the dimensions of this partition. It’ll be easier for you than creating a new one since our other partitions help delineate the boundaries.”

  “You can’t feel those boundaries, even though you created the illusion?” he asked with a frown.

  She shook her head. “We sense the blank space, but we lack the power to build the framework we need to rebuild Aifric.”

  So Connor focused. He tried to extend his thoughts to the space around him like he did when tapping tertiary stones. He’d practiced extending his mind like that so many times that it came easily.

  Chert reacted differently than the elemental stones. With those, he pushed his thoughts through gateways to the elements beyond. With chert, he was already standing in Student Eighteen’s mind so there was no gateway. It took a few seconds, but Student Eighteen seemed willing to wait forever.

  After a long moment, the common area seemed to grow lighter, and he felt like he was starting to rise, although he never left the brittle ground. The sensation was strange, like standing on a high plateau when suddenly the rest of the expanse in front of him split off and fell away.

  He started, hands reflexively extending to balance himself.

  “You’re feeling it,” Student Eighteen said eagerly.

  “It’s weird, like I can see more all of a sudden.”

  “Good. You need to understand how the partitions connect.”

  The view continued to expand, his perspective rising high above the wall. A pure white light lit the brown twilight from far in the distance and cast streamers through the gloom, illuminating the partitions.

  Each partition was roofed in the same stone as the front walls. He gazed out over those long expanses of stone toward that white light. He sensed that although the wall looked flat and straight when he stood in front of it, it was actually curved like a many-faceted crystal with nineteen faces.

  Her face was superimposed over the stone, each slightly different. Her expression changed in subtle ways, as did the intensity of her gaze, her posture, and the aura she emitted.

  Well, eighteen of the faces did. The last one was a blank hole, a chunk gouged out of the greater crystal.

  “I’ve got it, I think,” Connor said, amazed by what he was sensing. Was it really how her mind was built, or was it merely a deeper illusion? Did it matter?

  “Good. Now focus on Aifric’s partition and rebuild the wall.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Don’t over-think it. That’s a problem when using chert.”

  “Works for me. I try not to over-think anything.” Then he frowned. “Wait, I just realized I don’t know what Aifric’s primary affinity is.”

  “Granite.”

  “Really?” He’d never considered her a Boulder.

  “She almost never taps it. Her entire focus is her healing.”

  Connor absorbed those facts and tried to bring to mind the many cherished memories he had of Aifric as he focused on that gaping hole in the perfect crystal of Student Eighteen’s mind. For building materials, he imagined the project was like raising a structure with slate. He just needed to seize what he needed from below and push it into the right spot.

  As soon as he thought it, he felt stone blocks rising out of the gray matter under his feet. Grinning, he willed them to stack into walls. Dozens of blocks rose out of the ground and floated into the blank partition, but as they touched that central darkness, they fizzled and faded away.”

  “Don’t build the center, build the container,” Student Eighteen said. “We’ll fill the center.”

  Should mind-fragmenting powers make that much sense? He changed focus anyway, calling forth more stone and laying blocks along the front wall. He tried to will the door into existence in the center, but nothing happened and again his connection with the rest of his building blocks wavered and melted away.

  “Why can’t I build the door?”

  “The door is the entrance to her mind. Her mind doesn’t exist yet. You’re just creating the bucket we’ll use to fashion her mind. Only then will the door come into existence.”

  That sounded more like it. He didn’t understand what she meant, so it was probably exactly what they needed to do.

  Focusing again, he rapidly formed the outer wall, packing stone atop stone, mixing granite and sandstone, but using twice as much sandstone since she preferred that affinity. If only manual labor in the quarry moved so fast. As the wall rose, Connor quickly grew bored with alternating the stones so regularly. Since he controlled the way the stones were placed, he began shifting the pattern.

  He started with wavelike patterns, then incorporated some of the geometric shapes they seemed to like on the doors. As he completed the front wall and began extending the side walls behind, he continued working with those patterns. When he started in on the roof, he thought back to the many magnificent frescoes he’d seen in the Carraig and Altkalen.

  So he added some of those. He couldn’t make them so complex or colorful, but he did the best he could. The creative process captivated his attention so completely that he was surprised some unknown time later when Student Eighteen clapped three times loudly and laughed.

  “I feel it! The partition is complete.”

  It was. Connor slipped his thoughts along the new container and felt a flash of pride. He’d done pretty good work, considering it was all illusion in someone else’s mind.

  “Why does it feel different? Aifric’s partition feels far more . . . I don’t know. It’s subtle and complex. What did you do?”

  “Just what you asked.”

  She raised one eyebrow.

  “Well, maybe I spiced up the pattern of the stones a little, but that’s no big deal, right?”

  She frowned and the voices of all of the other personalities began whispering rapidly around them. Connor caught glimpses of their shapes drifting through the brown twilight.

  After a moment Student Eighteen said, “We’re not sure. Mister Five was always very methodical and strictly economical in building the partitions. We never tried it this way before.”

  “I’m sure she’ll like it,” Connor assured her.

  He did. The partition seemed better somehow than the simple, plain ones the others lived in. He didn’t want to tout his accomplishment too much, however. They might all want new houses and he wasn’t sure he was up for attempting extensive remodeling.

  Although the work was purely mental, when he extended a thought back to his own body, he could feel himself sweating, muscles aching as if he’d been running for hours. They needed to wrap up their work soon. Messing with people’s heads was a lot harder than he’d ever imagined. Shona made it seem effortless.

  Student Eighteen raised her hands, and said loudly, “All right, ladies. Let’s bring our girl back.”

  “What do I do?” Connor asked.

  “Maintain the partition. Each of us holds specific aspects of Aifric’s personality, along with portions of memories of her life. Combined, they should create a new whole.”

  As she spoke, the other personalities all appeared, dressed in their favorite outfits. Rith wore her Strider leathers. Cacilia wore a stunning satin dress that revealed far more skin than any outfit Connor had ever seen Aifric wear.

  The sight of it made him blush again and she sidled up next to him with a soft laugh and touched his cheek. “You’re such a dear, Connor. Too bad Verena’s got your heart all wrapped up.”

  Student Eighteen scowled at her. “Cacilia, we agreed not to strut your peculiar vices in front of Connor. You’ll damage all of our reputations.”

  “You’re such a stuffy old spinster,” Cacilia
muttered, but strode off, moving with a sensual grace that tempted Connor to keep watching.

  He looked away.

  Tresta marched past in her Boulder battle leathers, with Eystri creeping in her shadow, looking nervous even in the protected environs of her own mind. Mariora rushed past, dressed in her courier uniform, followed by Isabell, who wore a Healer’s jacket covered in dancing, multi-colored flames. She winked at Connor as she passed. More of them followed, personalities Connor hadn’t yet met. He wanted to ask their names, but Student Eighteen drew his attention back to the wall.

  She stood in the center, right where the door should be. She held an ornate wooden box, completely smooth, lacquered with black and orange clouds.

  She pressed it to the wall and said solemnly, “I grant to you birth and family, your deepest desires and your most crushing defeats. I bequeath your name. You are Aifric.”

  Intense white light erupted from the wooden box and it melted into the wall. Through his connection with the stone, Connor felt it fuse, becoming one with the stones. A ripple of power coursed all around the partition and a candle-worth of light began shining in the blackened heart at the center. He felt it like a whisper against the hair of his arm.

  Rith took Student Eighteen’s place. She held a similar box, but lacquered in crimson and green streaks that formed a bold, exciting pattern.

  “I grant to you memory of your first affinity. You are a Boulder! You wield the strength of the mountain to nourish and shelter all who know you.”

  She pressed her box into the wall with another flashing brilliant light. Connor felt the granite in the wall begin to glow in his mind. Its affinity had activated.

  The tiny glow inside the partition grew brighter.

  Rith stepped back, and only then did Connor realize the wooden boxes they’d pressed into the wall had transformed into pieces of a beautiful doorway.

  Surprisingly, Tresta took the next turn. Her normally stoic expression looked exultant as she pressed her box to the wall. She intoned, “I grant you the heart and soul of your work. Your second affinity. You are a Healer! You live to help others, to brighten the world with your smile, and to spread compassion to all who suffer pain and hurt.”

  The sandstone of the wall seemed to quiver as the affinity activated. The light in the center of Aifric’s being intensified dramatically, and Connor sensed Aifric’s legendary smile flicker around the boundary. He smiled in response, and he felt his throat growing tight with growing emotion. She really was coming back!

  Each of the other personalities stepped up to the wall in turn. Each pressed a box into the wall, building the doorway to Aifric’s mind and bequeathing memories, attributes, and pieces of Aifric’s personality.

  Connor watched and listened in amazement, moved by the solemnity of the moment. Student Eighteen was creating a new person, birthing Aifric within her own mind. Many of her personalities wept with emotion as they performed their parts of the ceremony.

  As the door slowly grew, the light inside the partition intensified, driving back the black emptiness and taking ownership of the wall.

  Connor was still deeply connected with the partition when Isabell, the last of all, pressed her box into the wall, completing the doorway and granting to Aifric friendship, the memory of healing her first broken bone, and the day they’d won their appointment to the Carraig.

  Isabell pressed her hand to the center of the door and whispered, “You are Aifric.”

  The others crowded in, all pressing hands over the same spot, repeating the words in unison. Their voices melded and grew, somehow magnifying each other until the common area reverberated from the thunder of it as the name echoed over and over.

  Aifric. Aifric. AIFRIC!

  Connor couldn’t help himself. He joined in the final resounding chorus, his voice swept into the mix. With a blinding flash and a final thunderclap, a golden plaque materialized under their palms. Connor staggered from the mental jolt. The blazing light filling the partition pulsed with Aifric’s first heartbeat and all of the pieces that had been offered by the other personalities fused together and became a solid whole. Aifric touched Connor’s mind and he felt the question in her thoughts.

  “I’m Connor. Welcome to day one.”

  Then Student Eighteen tackled him in an exuberant hug. She would have knocked him from his feet if he was really standing up.

  “She’s here! Aifric’s Back. Thank you!”

  “What are friends for?” he asked, hoping she’d regain her normal air of maybe-I’ll-kill-you-today-anyway attitude he’d grown to expect.

  All of her other personalities piled on, hugging and laughing together.

  The door began to open.

  Immediately the brown twilight of the common area disappeared, replaced by a long lawn of thick, luxuriant grass, ringed with towering oak trees. Connor couldn’t see beyond the trees, but didn’t care.

  Bright sunlight spilled out over the grass, and several long tables rose up from the ground. They groaned under the weight of every single one of Connor’s favorite foods.

  All of the personalities flickered momentarily, changing in the blink of an eye into formal gowns. He’d always loved Aifric’s ready smile and friendly face, but he’d never really considered just how lovely she could look when she tried.

  With a thought, he changed out of his everyday clothes too. Aifric was Obrioner, so he switched to fine linen pants, a soft cotton shirt, and a long, russet jacket with deep pockets.

  They all faced the far end of the clearing where Aifric strode eagerly toward them. She wore an emerald robe with a wispy pattern of grays that somehow gave the impression of hands extending to heal.

  All of Student Eighteen’s personalities swarmed around Aifric, welcoming her back and talking at the same time. They all seemed to understand it all, and they laughed and joked and reminisced at a speed that left Connor completely behind.

  So he walked over to the nearest table and found a huge chocolate cake, with a fork already sticking out of it. The entire scene was an illusion, so he ate the entire cake.

  It was delicious. No, it was better than that. Somehow the taste seemed to shoot right into the center of his brain, clearer and more incredible than any taste that had to pass through his mouth first. He grinned as he shoveled in enormous mouthfuls, wishing he never had to stop.

  When he finished, he turned to find all nineteen women who lived in Aifric’s head approaching, grinning at him.

  Aifric stepped to the front and hugged him, laughing with joy. “Thank you, Connor. I remember you now. I cherish our friendship now more than ever. You’ve given me the gift of life.”

  The emotion pouring off of the women made him distinctly uncomfortable. He shook his head. “I’m just the builder. The ladies gave you life.”

  “Thank you.”

  Student Eighteen joined him, grinning way too happily. “We declare you an honorary Mhortair, Connor. We adopt you into the family.”

  “Isn’t your family trying to kill you?”

  “At the moment.”

  “And they’ll try to kill me too.”

  “Definitely.”

  He shrugged. “That’s how our friendship started. They’ll come around.”

  Laughing, she kissed his cheek.

  And suddenly the chert connection broke.

  Connor fell out of his chair and groaned. He was drenched in sweat and every muscle ached.

  Hamish sighed. “Finally. Are you all right?”

  “I think so,” Connor said, righting himself with another groan.

  Hamish looked immensely relieved. His fingers were stained with chocolate, and he brushed crumbs from his shirt. He noticed Connor looking and said, “What? I eat when I’m nervous. If you hadn’t returned when you did, I might have eaten myself sick. You’ve been gone for hours.”

  “Feels like I’ve been bash fighting for a week.”

  “Did it work?” Hamish asked, glancing at Aifric, who hadn’t moved yet.

>   “Better than I ever imagined it might.”

  Aifric suddenly blinked and laughed, a bubbly, happy sound full of pure joy. She helped Connor rise and hugged him again.

  Then she turned to Hamish and said, “We’re starved. Where are those sausages?”

  49

  We Planned to Land Here. Really.

  Connor slept for twelve hours.

  He didn’t even finish his sausage. Between bites, a wave of exhaustion struck him like an avalanche. The next thing he knew, the Hawk pitched violently and shook him awake. He blinked sleep from his eyes and climbed up from under the second row of seats. He groaned as stiff muscles complained while the little craft pitched and shook. He only barely managed to climb into the middle seat without tumbling around the cabin.

  Luckily, the cake that had been sitting in that seat was gone. Hamish and Aifric had eaten it. They’d also finished the entire three-level, honey-glazed cake that had been sitting on the left-hand seat.

  Connor glanced toward the rear, half expecting to see the piles of food completely gone, with Hamish and Aifric sprawled amid the last crumbs, pots and pans licked clean, and empty bags that had held hundreds of sweetbreads.

  The image was so vivid in his mind that he felt a bit disoriented when things looked about the same. Two of the cast iron pots were empty, and one of the bags of sweetbreads was crumpled up nearby, but the rest looked fine.

  Thank the Tallan. He was starving.

  “I thought you were going to sleep all the way to the border,” Hamish called as the Hawk shuddered violently.

  He sat in the pilot seat. Aifric was sprawled to his left with several pillows and blankets propped against the shimmering window shields. She looked determined to try to sleep, but was failing. She flashed Connor her trademark smile, and he wanted to whoop. Aifric was back.

  The Hawk pitched heavily to the left, knocking Connor right out of his seat.

  “Hey, what was that for?” he asked, scrambling back into the seat and reaching for the safety harness.

  The Hawk pitched the other way and dropped straight down in a stomach-lurching dive. Only then did Connor notice they were flying through a dense cloud, with snow whirling around every side. Wind howled outside, the sound muted by the shielding over the windows.