by Garon Whited
Hmm. There’s some rusty metal down in the ruins. Maybe I can make suitable tongs, rather than open a gate specifically to fetch some. I definitely need them.
Humming quietly to myself, I got busy. If the rain lets up before I finish my gate work, it would be nice. If not, I’ve been wet before. I suppose I should also check on Leisel’s horse, just to be on the safe side. And, dang it, I probably need to do more work on the ruin we’re using as a stable…
Tauta, 17th Day of Varinskir
I’ve made good progress. I have tongs. With Firebrand, a hammer, brute strength, and a couple of un-rusting spells, I’m a decent blacksmith.
Maybe I should actually study smithing, someday, instead of relying on whatever leftovers are buried in my meals. I made time for kung-fu lessons, after all. Then again, I had more than one motive for those. I wanted to stop wasting my physical abilities in a fistfight. It’s important to be able to choose to kill someone with your bare hands, but even more important to know how not to. And, as a bonus, be able to do either one well. Plus the mental discipline seemed a good idea.
What else should I study? Everything, probably. Come to that, I could probably profit from simply practicing things I digested. I’m sure I’ve gulped down people who could throw things accurately—rocks, knives, spears, you name it. I don’t throw things as accurately as I’d like, but with my strength, my fastball could get me a job in the major leagues and seriously injure catchers. If I practice throwing things, will I get the hang of it supernaturally quickly? I suspect so. That’s how my spiritual digestion seems to work.
How many hundreds of other skills do I have buried inside, waiting to be given light and water—attention and practice—to grow?
At any rate, I have Orb-handling tongs. I also have most of the requisite equipment for my air cannon, as well as a sabot. It’s not quite what I wanted, since there isn’t much call for Orb-launching sabots, but it’s the right diameter and I plan to hollow it out today. I have a nice, thick layer of conversion panels for use between the accretion disk and the gate, for safety, and they’re slowly replicating in this environment. With a whole row of crystals charging, I should be able to grab enough air tanks tonight to complete the cannon. Tomorrow night, one gate, one black hole, and one lever…
Assuming I can still find the Orb, of course. It still bothers me the thing is in the belly of a Thing. I don’t know its full powers or capabilities. If it can find someone to psychically dominate, it may find a suitable sorcerer and start hiding again. I may assemble all this equipment for naught.
It’s a good thing I don’t sleep. Thoughts like these would keep me up at night.
In retrospect, I should probably have built the air cannon in a bunker in an alternate Cretaceous. Maybe in a sealed cavern on the Moon. Someplace to leave it for an indefinite period, so when or if—no, when!—I finally lay tongs on the Orb again, whenever that might be, I’m ready to pop over, seal it in a sabot, and chuck it into the garbage.
My alternative was grabbing it immediately and carting it around with me. I’m not sure how that would go. Disastrously, I’m thinking. True, I’d have it on hand, but would I have escaped from the angel? Would I be here, building a cannon? Would it have been stolen again—or engineered its escape—and definitely be loose inside a universe? My three thieves might still be in its thrall and running away with it! Right now, my only real hope is it has a hard time steering creatures of the void and an even harder time getting inside a universe.
Which one of us is running faster? Is time sprinting along for the Orb? Or for me? How does time work, for that matter, out in the void? Is it fixed or flexible?
In the meantime, I did my morning cleanup routine. I was most of the way through it when Leisel rounded the bend. She stopped, bowed slightly, and backed away. I finished when the sunrise did, snapped my fingers to dry off, and dressed quickly. I didn’t bother with the full armor. It’s only for venturing out, not for around-the-house wear.
“Your turn,” I called. Leisel came around the bend again with a bundle of her things.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“I’ll hang a curtain so we don’t walk in on each other.”
“I don’t mind,” she replied. “I’m sure we’ve both seen it all before. I thought you might be more modest.”
“I am, but I have a lot to be modest about. Whatever works for you.”
“Then don’t bother with the curtain. Keep your hands to yourself unless I ask and I’ll be content.”
“Seems fair. Is the water warm enough?”
“It’ll do. Why?”
“Would you prefer it warmer?”
“Always.”
I adjusted the spell at the lip of the waterfall, increasing the temperature. Faint steam started to rise as the water fell. I’m somewhat proud of the spell. It scavenges heat from the waste water and redirects it into the falling water. It still requires some energy input to make up for losses, but it’s a delightfully useful violation of thermodynamics. I still don’t like it, but I’ve learned to appreciate it.
“Try that,” I suggested. She put a hand in the water, testing it. She nodded, lips pursed.
“I’ve been giving some thought to you.”
“I’m flattered.”
“No, I mean about you doing… things.”
“I’m doubly flattered.”
“Not like that! I mean wizard things!”
“Oh. I’m less flattered, but no less interested. Do go on.”
“I think I’ve figured out why you can do wizard things. You’re a returned soul.”
“A who the what now?”
“A returned soul,” she repeated, shucking out of her clothes. “You died when you were a wizard and came back as a warrior, but you returned with your wizard stuff intact. You weren’t cleansed of your past life and your soul refined before you returned. So you earned a new life in a higher calling, but you kept your old life’s skills.”
“Huh,” I replied, brilliantly. “So, what does this mean?”
“I don’t know. I’m not of the priest caste. I do know there’s a legend about a man who was a returned soul, though.” She stepped under the water and ran her hands over her face.
“I haven’t heard it.”
“He came back and founded the Kingdom of Sassarian—that was his name. He worked miracles as only an enlightened, awakened soul, returned from the shores of death, might do.”
I felt a cold sensation and suppressed a shiver.
“Leisel. Look at me.” She met my eyes and I spoke softly, forcefully. “You gave me your word. You will say nothing about this. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. We’ll discuss this more some other time. For now, I’ll be up front. How do you take your eggs?”
“Uh? Any way.”
“Scrambled it is.”
I left her to her morning routine and I prepared breakfast. I was hungry and it was a subtle way of demonstrating my appetite. She was startled at the amount of food, but more startled when I ate everything she didn’t.
“Are you always this hungry?”
“Only at mealtimes. Can you think of anything you need from town? I’ll do some shopping today.”
“Chairs?”
“Thank you for reminding me. I’ll cut something for us to sit on. Anything else?”
“Spices, if you don’t mind. There isn’t much to be done with what we have here.”
“I can do that. For reference, though, bear in mind I like my food bland.”
She looked at the remains of breakfast.
“This bland?”
“This is too exciting for my taste.”
“Eggs and cheese are exciting?”
“Yep.”
“How do you cope with water?” she joked.
“Not as well as you’d think. Spice your food however you like, but leave me to my happy drabness.”
“Whatever you say.”
I f
inished breakfast and went out to cut down a tree. Four large sections of trunk became tall stools. The rest turned into Firebrand’s bed of coals or Bronze’s snacks. I brought in the wood and arranged them as seats. Leisel was down in the former village tending to her horse—brushing it down, fetching water from a stream, whatever else one does with a horse. This suited me perfectly. I got busy with spells for the sabot.
The sabot in question was a thick, plastic sphere. It divided down the middle and was filled with padded foam. Putting it together involved four countersunk screws along the rim—I made a note to steal a powered screwdriver and some glue. The sabot fit the pipe almost perfectly, but the interior wasn’t carved out for the Orb. I had to guess at the dimensions, but the flexible nature of the foam padding made precision unnecessary.
The real work went into the spells on it. I wanted the Orb to be blind, utterly and completely, while inside the sabot. The longer I kept it in the dark, so to speak, the less time it would have to figure out a way to avoid the gruesome awfulness of what was to come. Tricking it into thinking it was destined for a containment diagram might distract it from the truth, but only if it couldn’t sense anything. Hence the spells. My magic-draining spell went on it to reduce the level of power inside. Outside that, I put a layer of anti-scrying magic, along with an inverted cloaking spell—a spell to hide the universe from inside the sphere, rather than the sphere from the universe. Everything tied into the innermost spell, the reversed Ascension Sphere. If it failed, the others would also fail, disintegrating and discharging any power they still had so as to deny the Orb their resources.
I laid a lot of magic on that plastic ball. It would be a prison for the Orb, albeit a temporary one. I wanted it to be as close to perfect as I could manage.
Leisel, meanwhile, took care of herself and the miscellaneous things. She even had a properly-sized, suitably bland lunch ready. We ate in silence for a while.
“May I ask you more questions?”
“Go ahead,” I replied, around a mouthful of fried meat and melted cheese.
“May I know what you are doing?”
“There’s a… well, a demon. It’s been my nemesis for a long time and has caused the people I love more trouble than I care to think about. I’m preparing to summon it so I can imprison it and banish it.”
“Oh.”
I chewed thoughtfully, considering my next words. I had some basic familiarity with the locals and already established myself as an entity in their society. I had money and contacts. It was worth a try.
“After that—assuming I succeed—I plan to establish myself somewhere on a semi-permanent basis and do some research as a wizard.”
“I see. For how long?”
“I’m not sure. A year, ten years, a century—it depends on how the research goes.”
She didn’t have anything else to say.
As the sun sank in the west—which may be east, for all I know, but if it’s going down, I’m calling it “west”—I finished most of my spell work. I sat back and stretched again. It was another long day. In addition to my Orb project, I fixed the defensive spells. They recognized Leisel as an exception.
I didn’t like it. By adding her as an exception, it added security flaws to the spell. A competent wizard might figure out the identification subroutine and spin an additional subroutine for himself. Still, you can only be so secure. I think I might have an inkling of why the Empire used so many guards rather than relying too heavily on magic.
“We need oats,” Leisel told me, once I finished.
“We do?”
“The horse is grazing below, but it needs more than grass.”
“Are we already out?”
“No, but tomorrow.”
“I was planning a shopping trip, but I distracted myself. You keep an eye on the place tonight. Bronze and I will run into town and pick up some.”
Bronze pointed out to me how keeping a flesh-and-blood horse requires considerably more effort. Privately, I agreed. We would fetch fodder, but the care and maintenance would stay mostly Leisel’s problem.
“It will wait until tomorrow,” Leisel added.
“Yes, but if you go into town, it’ll take hours. Bronze is faster. Oh! Unless you need to go into Sarashda for other reasons?”
“No. I just didn’t want you to make a special trip.”
“No bother. Besides, there’s only so much space on Bronze’s back. Excuse me. I’m going to wash before I leave.”
After my sunset shower, Leisel offered to help me into my armor by simply picking up pieces and handing them to me.
“What is this?” she asked. “It’s too light. It doesn’t feel like metal.”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what your armor is made of?”
“It was a gift.”
“From who?”
“A powerful spirit.”
“If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”
“His name was Diogenes and he ruled over a kingdom three thousand miles across, with vassal states twice that distance from the border. He was my friend, and he gave me this as a gift.”
“You’re serious?”
“Not knowingly. Rule twenty-seven.”
“What?”
“Yes, I was serious. He made it for me. I don’t have to know what it’s made of.”
“I think I’m sorry I asked.”
“Don’t be. There’s… simply a lot of history behind me.” And in front of me, I didn’t add.
“I gathered. Any instructions while you’re gone?”
“If it doesn’t break down the door, it can sit on the porch and wait for me. If it breaks down the door and survives, kill it if you can. Other than that, use your judgment.”
“Yes, sir.”
I like her. So do Bronze and Firebrand.
Sunrise and sunset are the main time marks for an agrarian society, but a city doesn’t necessarily sleep. With the abundance of magical lighting—at least, in the good districts—people and businesses are available much later than sunset. I found a spice shop still open, laid down gold, and bought all the spices. I mean, I bought the smallest jar of each spice available. I don’t know what Leisel means by “spices,” but she should have enough variety to satisfy anyone. They have a lot of spices around here. The jars, along with some sacking, fit neatly in Bronze’s saddleboxes.
Then we were off to the feed store and stable.
Feeding horses is more complicated than letting them graze. They need a lot of fiber to stay healthy, but they also need a lot of other nutrients. Oats are ideal, but other grains, including barley, corn, and wheat, have their place. I nodded politely as the gentleman in the stable expounded on his opinions of what to feed a horse. Wheat chaff from the mill is a good start, but mix into it other grains, depending on how hard the horse is going to work. Corn is for a day of hard labor, oats for a day of rest, barley if you plan to exercise it…
All good stuff, I’m sure, and I may need to know it, someday. To be fair, I suppose I need to know it now—I do own a flesh-and-blood horse.
So, rather than get a sack of pre-mixed feed, I went with several sacks of straight grains. Most of it was oats, of course, but I added a sack of corn and a sack of barley, just in case. Leisel might need to run in to town on her horse. We lashed the load onto Bronze despite the fact there wasn’t room for me. She looked as though she had a burlap hot-air balloon packed on her. Add hot air to inflate it and she would take off. The store assistant, helping us load, scratched his head.
“I don’t see how she stands up under the load,” he admitted. “There’s a lotta grain up there. You sure you don’t wanta rent a cart?”
“It would be another round trip to return it,” I told him. “We’ll manage.”
“Suit y’self.”
Bronze was willing to go either way, but if I wanted to buy a cart, it might make things easier in the future. I accepted this as a fact, but I also wasn’t willing to stop some
where with her present load and haggle over a wheeled contrivance. Partly because it was a lot of work to get it all up on her back, partly because anyone willing to sell a cart would see me as a man in dire need of one.
I walked with Bronze out of the city before I climbed up on top of the feed bags. She shifted into a high gear in her paso fino gait and I stood on top like a surfer on a wave. It wasn’t her fastest gait, but it was by far the smoothest. Besides, I wasn’t exactly stable up there. Keeping me from a fifteen-foot tumble at forty miles an hour was a priority. We made it to the mine without incident, though. I can accomplish great feats when I’m allowed to focus, and standing upright is among them.
We walked together around the last bend into the village ruins. I unloaded the sacks in a former outbuilding, cast a couple of spells to keep them dry and vermin-free, and made a note to repair the building itself if it was going to be a granary. I mentioned it to Leisel while I unpacked the spice jars.
“I can work on the granary,” she assured me. “It’s to keep the rain off? Not much else?”
“I have spells on it to deal with vermin, so yeah. Put these somewhere.” I handed down some jars and she started arranging them on the workbench-table. I mentally berated myself for not having enough wall niches. Well, by morning…
“Are these spices?”
“Can’t you smell them?” I asked, handing down more of them. She put them neatly on the table.
“That’s why I ask.”
“Yes. You said spices, so I got spices. I don’t cook with spices, so I don’t know what you want. I got a little of everything.”
“These are all different spices?” she asked, examining the latest set of jars.
“Wouldn’t be much point if they were all pepper.”
“I’m not this much of a cook,” she warned. “I don’t know what to do with most of these.”
“Here’s your chance to experiment. With your plate.”
“Understood. What’s the plan for today?”
“I start some more shelf space, check on some projects, and wait for the crystals to charge. I might help with the granary, too.”
“A better chimney wouldn’t be bad, either,” she suggested, looking up at the cavern ceiling. I followed her gaze.