by Jim C. Hines
“Like the students of Bi Sheng,” I said, thinking of everything I had seen Bi Wei and her fellow refugees do. They had existed in that magical limbo for five hundred years, and it had changed them. They were far stronger now than when Gutenberg attacked their temple.
“The Land of Midday Dreams,” said Bi Wei. “Great grandaunt told me about a river made of the dreams and fears of every man, woman, and child. Where even the strongest soul could lose herself and wander forever, or be consumed by the demons that swam within the dreams. The Ghost Army.”
“The practice of baptism was mostly abandoned when I began my study.” Ponce de Leon crouched in front of me, peering into my eyes like a doctor. “We thought it a myth.”
Not a myth, but a technique made far more dangerous once Meridiana had been trapped within the river, waiting to drown whoever passed by.
I wanted more than anything to sit down with Ponce de Leon and Bi Wei and mine every magical rumor and legend from their memories. If they were correct, Meridiana’s existence had fundamentally altered the study and practice of magic. What else had we lost or forgotten over the centuries?
I looked at the cane. This was the knowledge I needed right now. Reading the cane’s story was one thing. Manipulating it was another. The magic in that cane was unlike any I had performed.
But what was libriomancy, truly? Jeneta had proven it wasn’t the ink and paper that held the magic. Laser-etch a story into ten-thousand hockey pucks and hand them out to fans, and I could theoretically use those pucks as easily as a midlist mass-market paperback.
This cane was unique, but its story was stronger than any book. It had been “written” by Juan Ponce de Leon, after all. I reached for the words and let them flow past in silence. I found myself again in that moment of despair and loneliness. Ponce de Leon had believed nothing could truly split the bond between him and Gutenberg. They might have fought over the years, but each relied on the other for support and comfort. The betrayal tore at my chest. They were strangers from another time, the only two people on Earth who understood where the other had come from, and what they had left behind.
“Isaac . . .” Lena pointed to the cane.
Blood seeped from the wood like sap.
I drew my fingers through illusory words that clung to my hand like cobwebs. I could do it. I could pull them apart, separate the layers and undo at least some of what Ponce de Leon had done to this cane over the years.
Instead, I carefully stroked the text back into place, laying it down like stain on wood. The blood followed, until nothing remained but the unbroken ebony surface.
I sat back, shaken by the magic I had done and the power of Ponce de Leon’s despair.
“Nothing is eternal,” Ponce de Leon said at last. “That doesn’t stop us from longing for permanence and security.” He took the cane and kissed the metal handle. “You’ve given us quite the demonstration, Isaac. Can you do the same when faced with Meridiana and her creations?”
“I hope so.” My stomach grumbled. It had to be getting close to lunchtime, and I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. “But first, do you have any snacks around here?”
Meridiana had protected herself from magical spying. Not even Ponce de Leon could snoop on her that way. But she hadn’t thought to block more mundane approaches, like hacking into her e-reader to monitor her Wi-Fi usage. We had tracked her to a one-mile area near Copper River. Given that her planned escape involved a water-based portal, she had to be along the river.
Nicola, Jackson, and Bi Wei would remain at the fort to guard the armillary sphere and monitor her e-reader. That left me, Lena, Nidhi, and Ponce de Leon to spearhead the attack.
“We’ll need a second vehicle,” I said as we made our way out of the fort, passing a family posing for photos with a man in the red uniform of a British soldier. “I kind of left the Jeep in Copper River, and the Triumph only seats two. Sorry, I didn’t think that through.”
I wasn’t happy about stealing another car, but short of creating a flying carpet or taking our chances with teleportation—
The smell of burning fire-spider rose from my hip, and I stopped walking. Bright lights, like a trio of flashbulbs, heralded the arrival of three wood-and-metal goliaths in the parking lot ahead. Each one carried a man or woman in its arms. The size difference made their passengers look like children.
“We might also need a new plan,” I said quietly.
The automatons stood like statues, eight-foot-tall golems with metal skin and glassy eyes, polished to capture the light. Their armor was made up of metal keys, possibly the same blocks Gutenberg had used in his early experiments with printing. Those blocks imprinted libriomantic spells into the wooden flesh of the automatons, drawing on the magic of the Latin Vulgate Bible, just as Gutenberg himself had done.
I could read those spells from here, a tightly-woven mesh of Biblical verse protecting them from assault and diverting the attention of people walking past. Any camera pointed in that direction would show only a blurred shadow.
The people they were carrying—two women and a man—moved to inspect my car. I recognized Babs Palmer and Cameron Howes. The other woman looked like Sarieha Ward, a researcher from the east coast. She clutched a stack of books in her arms. Babs spotted us and pointed.
I could see Babs’ silent command to the automatons. The closest of the golems tore through a section of fence, opening the way for Babs and the others.
Cameron, a stocky man with a bush of dark curls and an eye-searing magical green cloak, looked me up and down. “Nice cape.”
“Thanks.” In addition to my magic headband, I had created a small wand, a ring, and a red-and-yellow cape, which I had safety-pinned to one side of my shirt to keep it away from Smudge’s flames. “I like your cloak. We should talk cosplay some time.”
“We’re not here to fight you, Isaac.” Babs was a muscular woman, and her accent made me imagine her roping cattle from horseback like a caricature from a bad western, despite the fact that she was a practicing lawyer with a known distaste for animals. Some kind of personal shield protected her body, humming like an old refrigerator and giving her skin a glassy shine in the sunlight.
“Jackson called you?” I guessed.
“It wasn’t him,” said Cameron. “But when he failed to return home, his wife grew worried. Her phone calls were eventually forwarded to us.” He gestured to Ward, who began walking toward the fort. One of the automatons followed like an overeager half-ton puppy.
Ponce de Leon had vanished. If he was smart, he’d gotten out of here the instant the automatons popped into view. Right now, the Porters were probably trigger-happy enough to attack him on sight if they realized who he was.
“Automatons won’t help against Meridiana,” I said. “You have to know that, which means you brought them to use on us.”
“Not unless you force us.” Babs stopped a short distance away. “What the hell have you done? Every archive on the planet is reporting books suddenly unlocking themselves.”
“Spells all over the world go haywire, and you automatically assume I was involved? I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.” I saw no visible weapons, but when I squinted, I could read the faint text of the magic worked into her skin. “Do you have enchanted tattoos? That’s so cool. What do they do?”
She folded her arms. “Where is the armillary sphere, Isaac?”
I played out one scenario after another in my head. Lena and I had fought automatons before, but even if we managed to stop these three, we were also facing two Regional Masters, both of whom would have prepared themselves before coming here. I didn’t recognize Cameron’s cloak, but I suspected it would protect him from most attacks, and I would need time to read and understand Babs’ tattoos.
“It’s in the archive,” I said cheerfully. “Which you already knew, right? You’re just starting with the easy stuff to see how cooperative I’ll be?”
She tilted her head in acknowledgment.
“I’ve b
een inside the sphere,” I continued. “I got a nice, good look at Meridiana and the Ghost Army. I know how to stop them. I can free Jeneta and the others, then lure the ghosts into the sphere with her before we destroy it.”
“We’ve put together a different plan.” Cameron was smiling. It made me nervous.
Babs touched a jeweled cuff on her left ear and cocked her head, like she was listening to voices we couldn’t hear. “We have Nicola,” she said to Cameron a moment later. “Jackson is with her.”
Nothing about Bi Wei. I kept my face neutral as Cameron stepped forward. “Please hand over any weapons or magical items you’re carrying. Including the spider.”
I thought back to the books Sarieha Ward had been carrying. “Sarieha had a copy of Damon Knight’s A for Anything.”
“So she did.” Babs touched her forearm, and I saw the power within those tattoos building. One passage looked like it would create a web of magical energy. Another had something to do with diverting attacks back on her enemies.
Babs had claimed the automatons weren’t here to fight us. I thought she was just trying to play nice, but she meant it. They weren’t here to fight at all. Their purpose was much worse. “You can’t do this.”
“What is it?” asked Lena.
“A for Anything was written back in the late fifties.” I didn’t take my attention from Babs. “It opens with the introduction of a ‘gismo,’ a small, simple device capable of duplicating anything it touches. Money, machines, human beings.”
“Or automatons,” said Nidhi.
I scoured my memory. It had been so long since I read the book. “It was a simple wooden cross with a pair of glass and metal cubes, kind of like three-dimensional circuits. Hook one up to whatever you want to duplicate, flip the switch, and then there are two. Gutenberg locked that book the day it came out. I must have unlocked it when I destroyed his pen.”
Only a handful of Gutenberg’s original automatons still survived. He was said to have hated the things and what it cost to create them: a broken human mind, trapped within wood and metal, acting as the magical battery to give each automaton life.
“They’re going to erase one of the automatons,” I said, watching Babs’ expression. “Like wiping a hard drive. Then they’ll use Knight’s gismo to build an army, a thousand empty soldiers. Each one nigh invulnerable. Each one lacking only a mind to animate it.”
“Why destroy the Ghost Army,” Nidhi asked, “when you can enslave them instead?”
“Enslave them how?” asked Lena.
She and I had come across the broken remains of an automaton months before. I remembered piecing together broken metal disks from the automaton’s “brain.” Engraved on the disks had been the name Johann Fust, a competitor of Gutenberg’s from the 1400s. I assumed the name was part of the spell binding Fust’s spirit to the automaton, but from what I had seen of the Ghost Army, most of them were so far gone they didn’t remember their own names.
Babs shrugged. “As I recall, Isaac was able to hitch a ride in one of these things and control it without engraving his autograph on its brain. And there are plenty of books about trapping and controlling ghosts.”
Instead of an army of ghosts led by a thousand-year-old parasite and wannabe goddess, we would have an army of unstoppable warriors under the control of a splintering magical organization, one with a history of aggression and paranoia, not to mention a power vacuum at the very top.
Tourists and mock historical figures were streaming out of the fort. A spell trailed from Babs’ hands, leading them away like sheep.
“This is a really, really bad idea,” I said. “The students of Bi Sheng think of the Porters as conquerors and destroyers. They’ve already outed us to the world. Now you want to escalate things by unveiling your own magical army?”
“Your President Roosevelt was fond of saying, ‘Speak softly and carry a big stick; you will go far,’” said Cameron.
“The problem with carrying a big stick is the temptation to use it,” I said. “Like Gutenberg did, when he tried to wipe out the students of Bi Sheng. The instant they find out about your automatons, it will be all-out war.” And Bi Wei was likely still hiding within the fort. She’d see what they were up to the minute they began.
“To those who survived, that attack happened only a month ago,” Nidhi said, adding her urgency to my own. “They watched their friends and family die. The memories are open wounds. Do this, and you’ll destroy any chance of peace.”
“Automatons are more than capable of hiding until they’re needed,” Cameron said dismissively.
He might have been right, if not for Bi Wei. She had lost her brother when the automatons destroyed her temple. That she had been able to trust me at all was a miracle, as was the fact that the arrival of Babs and Cameron with automatons in tow hadn’t triggered an instant and violent response.
I tried to calculate my odds against Babs, Cameron, and automatons. They weren’t good.
Babs must have seen my intentions on my face. “Don’t do anything hasty, Isaac. Take off the cape and whatever other magic you’re carrying, and we’ll talk.”
I considered warning them about Bi Wei, but I couldn’t see that helping. Babs and Cameron were pushing for control of the Porters. They couldn’t back down. Even if they managed to subdue her, all of her fellow students were tapped into her mind and senses. They would see what happened, and they would know the Porters remained an active threat to them all.
Slowly, I removed the cape and tossed it onto the ground between us. Testing my abilities on Ponce de Leon’s cane in the safety of the archive had been one thing. Now it was time for the field test.
I stared at the cape, reading the magic and belief woven through the garishly-colored fabric. I saw both the rules from the book and the belief of countless gamers who had used this particular artifact. Not to mention the arguments between rules-lawyers who wanted to push the cape’s capabilities to the very edge. And beyond, if the game-master let them get away with it.
“Do the other Regional Masters know about this?” Lena asked.
Cameron snorted. “They’d spend a month arguing and forming committees to study the problem, and we’d be dead of old age before they made a decision. Why do you think Gutenberg bypassed them so often?”
“Look how that worked out for him,” Nidhi said quietly.
Screams from within the fort gave me the distraction I needed. I tore the cape’s magic free and wrapped it around myself. I stretched the web of words to embrace Lena as well, then reached for Nidhi . . .
The magic buckled. Three people were too much. The rules could only be pushed so far. Hoping Nidhi would understand, I refocused the cape’s power.
Lena and I disappeared.
FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION
FILE NO: 16824-17
New File
Update to Existing File
NAME: Isaac Samuel Vainio
ALIASES: None
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
SEX: M
RACE: Caucasian
HEIGHT: 5’9”
WEIGHT: 155 lbs
HAIR COLOR: Blond
HAIR LENGTH: Short
EYE COLOR: Brown
SCARS/MARKS/TATTOOS: None
FAMILY: Unmarried, no children. Cohabitates with Lena Greenwood. One brother: Toby. Parents: Erik and Heidi Vainio.
CRIMINAL HISTORY: Member of the magical organization known as the Porters. Suspected involvement with the disappearance of Ted Boyer (Marquette, MI). Suspected involvement with the murder of Ray Walker (East Lansing, MI). Suspected involvement with multiple, unexplained deaths in Copper River, Michigan (see case file C89626.)
KNOWN ASSOCIATES: Nicola Pallas (File 16821-23). Nidhi Shah.
Property of the U.S. Government. For internal use only.
LENA AND I REMATERIALIZED within the Chevalier House’s basement, just outside of the archive. The inner door was open. Nicola and Jackson were slumped unconscious against the wall. Nicola ha
d been gagged and bound as well, presumably to keep her from using magic if she recovered. Ward and her automaton must have caught them by surprise.
I could see the spells laid over them like blankets, keeping them asleep. Given time, I could probably reverse them, but we didn’t have time. “Where did they go?”
Lena jogged to the end of the hallway and opened the outer door. “No sign of her here. What the hell did you do, by the way?”
“That cape is what’s called a Wondrous Item. Once per day, it allows your character to open a dimensional doorway. I used to play a dwarf rogue who caused all sorts of mischief with one of those capes.”
I found the armillary sphere in the crate where we had left it. Nothing else had been touched, as far as I could tell. I checked Nicola and Jackson more closely. Both were breathing normally, and had no obvious injuries.
Shouts from aboveground gave me a good idea where Ward had gone. Lena snatched the armillary sphere, and seconds later we were running up the stairs and out of the house.
We found Sarieha Ward facedown on the ground in front of Damon Knight’s magical gismo. Her automaton lay beside her, its head separated from the torso. Sarieha had removed several metal disks from the head, presumably “wiping” it of its current occupant in preparation for the magical cloning process.
It wasn’t the automaton that made Smudge burst into anxious flames. It was Bi Wei. Power swirled around her, raw and unformed and terrifying. I couldn’t tell whether or not Sarieha was still alive, but if she was, Bi Wei intended to change that. “Wei, stop!”
The eyes that turned toward me were wide with rage and terror. Bi Wei stood in the eye of a magical maelstrom. I could see Meridiana’s tendrils stretching toward her, seeking her heart and mind. Meridiana fed on those who channeled too much magical power. But Bi Wei didn’t stand alone. Shadows surrounded her: the other students of Bi Sheng, lending her strength.