Mobius

by Garon Whited

  Leisel picked up one of the indicated mirrors, turning it over in her hands.

  “You’ve trained me enough to make me feel confident in using one of these, but I don’t know about anyone else.”

  “These are specially enchanted to be user-friendly.”

  “Hmm. Maybe. I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not sure how people will take this.”

  “It’s no different from being assigned to shadow someone. It just cuts out the footwork.”

  “Maybe,” she repeated. “We’ll try it, but I won’t promise to get someone on every one of these mirrors.”

  “We can simply get started. If it goes well, others may come around and volunteer—or be less upset at being assigned to the job.”

  “We can try. What else?”

  “Nothing, at the moment. What do you need from me?”

  “How goes the food?” she inquired.

  “We should have a shipment arriving sometime tomorrow or the next day. Food enough to support the valley for days, possibly weeks. If I have to, I can get another shipment in, later, but I hope to have the western fort set up for trading with the barbarians. They like steel, so we should shift production to it. I’m hoping they’ll supply us with food in exchange.”

  “Good luck.”

  “You don’t think we can build it fast enough?”

  “I don’t think we can trade with them. They kill and steal, not trade.”

  “Maybe they simply need a reason to avoid killing and stealing.”

  “Maybe they need to be exterminated.”

  “Possibly. We haven’t reached that point, yet.”

  “Let me know and we’ll start making plans. After the siege, I mean.”

  “Consider it done. Anything else?”

  “I’d like some time this evening, if you’re not too busy.”

  “I’ll make time,” I assured her.

  “Good. Any idea what we’re going to say to the priests?”

  “Uh… no?” The non-sequitur threw me. I had no intention of bothering the Temple.

  “Think about it,” she advised. “They’ll want to know your plans.”

  “Hold on a second. What priests and why? What plans?”

  “For the siege? It looks as though we’re bottled. Our surrender is expected.”

  “Oh. And the priests will be coming to see if we’re prepared to surrender?”

  “It’s a formal vendetta. It’s a war between Houses. You don’t expect Sarcana to risk someone in their employ as a messenger, do you?”

  “I guess not, although I always thought messengers were afforded safe-conduct.”

  “Mostly, but not always during a siege. They can also be spies,” she pointed out.

  “I hadn’t thought of it like that. Okay. Do we have to explain why we’re not surrendering to the priests?”

  “It’s customary. The Temple is neutral in all conflicts. They won’t tell our situation to anyone.”

  “Forgive me if I’m not so trusting. Even if some young priest goofs and mentions we’re well-supplied, it could provoke an attack before we’re ready. I’d rather nobody knew we were managing well.”

  “I see your point. Do you want me to talk with them?”

  “Are they here?”

  “No, but I expect them anytime. House Sarcana will have sent for them after establishing what they think is an overwhelming advantage.”

  “I’ll talk to them if I’m here. I may be at the warmeet in Sarashda.”

  “Oh?” Leisel asked, eyebrows rising.

  “I figure being there will be like spitting in Naskarl’s face, showing contempt for his so-called overwhelming advantage. It will make others laugh at Sarcana and respect us.”

  “Interesting idea,” she agreed, then cautioned, “It won’t solve the siege.”

  “No, but I like the siege. The longer it goes on, the better for us. If they think they have us, they won’t be too quick to try anything else. I’m happy with them doing nothing. Besides, while I’m in Sarashda, I plan to rob the Sarcana estate.”

  “Stop,” she said, raising a hand. She pointed at her ear and eye, then gestured in a circle. “Don’t tell me anything more.”

  “I don’t think anyone can scry on us in here.”

  “Don’t risk it. I’ll go give some orders. You do whatever you came up here to do.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Oh, and would you send Renata up after you get everything sorted?”

  “Surely.”

  There’s a fair amount of recursion when scrying on scrying spells. It’s like using a spy camera to spy on spy cameras. It makes me wonder how far it could go, scrying spells scrying on scrying spells while scrying on scrying spells, and so on.

  What I did with my spells was to examine their spells. I was handicapped by only being able to see the local end of the spell, not the other, but they were obligingly still and long-lasting. I had perfect vantage points and stable subjects for analysis.

  The local scrying spells seem to be all of a sort. Someone developed a way to see somewhere far-distant and everyone started using it. It probably went through a few iterations of refinement—I assume so, even though the locals don’t have a structured system of magic, only empirical data—and this was the modern, streamlined, fully-functional standard. It wasn’t how I would do it, but it was perfectly effective. At a guess, casting the spell involved an eyeball from some keen-eyed animal. If it needed to see in the dark, it probably involved a flame, as well. How long would it last? It depended on the wizard’s capacity to channel magical force and how much effort he went to. Enchanted into a crystal ball or a mirror, it would be a lot less trouble. Some spells are best used in an enchantment, after all. My sand table is a good example. I’d hate to have to cast all the spells in the thing every time I wanted to use it.

  The major weakness of the local spells is the same as the wizard’s scrying spells in Rethven. They were fixed points, set wherever the caster wanted to put it. They didn’t move around once placed. I didn’t see a way to lock them on to a person so they could follow someone. On the other hand, they were direct visual sensors—at least, these were—and capable of being used to target people or things with other spells. A man out in a thunderstorm could be a valid target for some sort of spell to summon lightning, for example, but I doubted they could throw lightning through the channel of the scrying spell.

  This gave me an idea. If these spells were actually generated and maintained by enchanted objects, it was unlikely I could hurt anyone by shutting them down. If you’re using a camera to look through a keyhole, a poke with a sharp stick won’t hurt your eye.

  But cameras are expensive.

  What I’d like to do—the most elegant solution—is to instigate a feedback loop of a single image. Whatever they’re looking at, it locks, becoming a photograph by feeding the same image into itself forever. This turns the magic mirror into a magic picture frame, never to be used again. Oh, they could fix it, I’m sure, but they’d have to figure out how—if they can. Or they can break the enchantment and start over. Or they can pay me to undo the freeze. Overall, this would be a semi-polite way of saying not to poke their mystical noses into my valley.

  Unfortunately, the method they use to cast their spells and create their items isn’t identical to my own. They are similar in some respects, much like any two automobiles are similar in some respects. Theirs are steam-powered cars while mine run on gasoline. There’s only so much subtlety I can use on their spell structures. Worse, I’m at the wrong end of the spell for major reconstructions. If I could, I’d let them have a framed portrait of the Eye of Sauron to hang on their wall—or a malware ransom note!—but I simply don’t see a way to do it.

  What I can do, on the other hand, is inject a lot more power into their spell at this end to create a nasty power spike. If lightning strikes a video camera, the camera dies. If it’s a poorly-grounded monitoring setup, the lightning might also destroy the terminal where someone watches through the camera. So,
I can use their own spell connection as a lightning rod for a form of magical lightning. If someone is casting a scrying spell on a mirror or a bowl of water or whatever, the spell goes poof and quits. If the spell is being generated by an enchanted object, however, it’s much more difficult to shatter. Still, route enough power through it and there’s a good chance the object—well, the enchantment in the object—also goes poof and quits. Whether it cracks the crystal ball or boils the scrying bowl is another question entirely. If I hit it hard enough, the enchantment should break, meaning they’ll have a mundane mirror or whatever and have to enchant it all over again.

  Unfortunately, a power spike like that requires, well, a lot of power. I don’t see a way to build such a spell into a defensive dome. Well, not one of any size, anyway. It might be worthwhile as a one-shot, last-ditch barrier around a private room. No, a wand would be more reasonable. It can have a power crystal in the hilt to provide juice for each shot and charge up between uses. Anyone can use it, so I don’t have to wander around, zapping scrying spells. Best of all, perhaps, people will see it happen from the other end. Someone comes out, looks at the scrying sensor, raises a wand, and zap! There goes your crystal ball. Word will get around that scrying into the valley might cost you a magic mirror!

  I might need to enchant some goggles, too, so non-wizards can both see the sensor and zap it with the wand. Come to think of it, zapping something a hundred yards away could be tricky with a wand—the equivalent of a pistol. If I include a laser sight, though…

  My finished design was relatively simple. A low-powered line of force extended while the wand was in use. This was visible through goggles, like a laser pointer through light fog. Wave the wand around until the line of force touches the scrying sensor. Then, with a preliminary connection established, one of the crystals—one of six small crystals instead of one large crystal—dumped automatically, like a capacitor discharging, taking with it whatever charge the wand’s enchantment accumulated between shots. They could fire off six shots pretty quickly, but it would take some time to recharge before firing again.

  I made sure the wand didn’t project a targeting line unless one of the crystals was fully charged. No sense in trying to fire it and wasting a partial charge without affecting the scrying sensor.

  I also fine-tuned the spell effect. The power dump was designed to resonate with some of the key elements of a scrying spell. It was kind of like the destructive harmonics a singer can create in a wineglass. It doesn’t destroy anything else, but it does quite a number on the thing it’s made for. With one component of the spell—or the enchantment—destroyed, the rest of it should short-circuit and die as all its own power goes haywire.

  I’m still not sure if it will bust only the enchantment or also bust the object holding the scrying enchantment, but it won’t be good for either. If someone’s crystal ball explodes, it also won’t be good for them. I can’t say I’m filled with overwhelming remorse about this.

  Renata arrived while I was working. Her escorts left her at the door. She closed it behind her and moved quietly to a stool, waiting and wondering. I finished the goggles, tested them, and put them aside with the scryzapper wand.

  “Good afternoon. How are you feeling?”

  “Well enough,” she shrugged. “I’m not enjoying the smell of breakfast, but by lunch I’m all right.”

  “Good. I’m glad you’re doing well. Have you been considering the agent duty I mentioned?”

  “I thought I was supposed to think about being your galvanais.”

  “Others may assume you’re pretty and therefore dumb. I do not. You can think about more than one thing.”

  “All right, yes. I’ve been thinking about that, too.”

  “I have a house I’m setting up as a drop point for supplies. I plan to supply you with money, a necklace to let you understand and speak the local language, and a special way to get back and forth between the house and this tower.”

  “For how long?”

  “Until the baby is a baby. I understand when it’s born, everything changes.”

  “You can say that twice.”

  “Not being entirely literal-minded, I won’t.”

  “Can I see this house?”

  “Of course. I have to go there to finish some more work, anyway. Hang on a minute.” I took the wand and goggles down to one of the tower guard and explained their use. Outside, I had her actually use them to confirm they worked as expected and she really did understand how. She blasted six sensors in short order and returned the wand to me.

  Clearly, I needed something to charge the wand fairly quickly, as well as an indicator for when it was fully charged. I told her so and had her keep it. Even if I didn’t have a fast-charging point for it, it would still be useful. She agreed to check for a targeting line through the goggles and to use it when she could.

  Back in my workroom, I prepared a transfer of the ongoing micro-gate to the gate in my workroom.

  “Sorry about the delay. Had to get another project in motion while we’re off.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “Before we go, I want you to brace yourself. You’re about to see a lot of strange things.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “A hole is about to open in this wall. It’s actually a magic doorway. They’re rare and hard to come by, as well as expensive. Don’t go telling people I have it. Prepare to step through quickly.”

  I opened the gate, waited until it stabilized, and stepped through with Renata. The gate snapped back to the micro-gates and we were standing in the barn.

  “I’ve lived in worse,” she commented, looking around.

  “This is the barn. The house is over there.”

  I gave her the tour, demonstrating things like electric lights and running water—running hot water—and she took it all in.

  “There isn’t much in the way of furniture, but I can have people deliver it. I also plan to do some barn modifications.”

  “And I’m simply going to live here?”

  “You’ll have to sign for deliveries. I’ll also want you to test some new weapons and tell me what you think of them.”

  “All alone?”

  “Uh… no, I suppose you don’t have to be. Do you have someone in mind to stay with you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Works for me. But I don’t think you’ll be too alone. I’m setting up this broom closet so it connects back to the tower.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It doesn’t work now, but when I have it fixed, it’ll be a magic closet. You go in, shut the door, and when you open the door, you’re coming out of a closet much like it in the tower.”

  “Anytime I want?”

  “Anytime you want.”

  She looked around the house a bit more. She tapped on the glass of a window. She opened and closed an exterior door, interested in the doorknob. She held a hand in front of the air conditioner vent.

  “Before I agree to anything,” she said, “you need to be honest with me.”

  “About what?”

  “You’re no manzhani. You’re not a warrior. You’re a wizard.”

  “I’m not a warrior?” I asked.

  “Wizards’ tricks could fake it. You make magic. You’re a wizard.”

  “Guilty. Leisel tells me I’m a returned soul, or an enlightened one.”

  Renata pursed her lips in thought. She looked around, found nothing to sit on, and lowered herself to the floor. I followed suit, sitting tailor-fashion with her.

  “Maybe you are a returned soul. May I ask why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why did you return? If you didn’t forget your past life, you must remember what it’s like beyond the material world. You’re here for a reason. What is it?”

  “You sound pretty confident of your religious knowledge for a warrior,” I observed.

  “I spent a lot of time in the Temple.”

  “Fair enough. I can’t tell you.”

/>   “Can’t?” she echoed.

  “Are you a returned soul?”

  “No.”

  “Then I can’t tell you.”

  She made a thoughtful noise and leaned back against a wall, considering me carefully.

  “All right. I can believe that, if I try. Can you at least tell me what you’re doing in the valley?”

  “Establishing a place where the Empire and the barbarians can make peaceful contact. If they can be taught more civilized manners, they can learn to be something other than barbarians.”

  “What do we need the kustoni for?”

  “The Empire covers a huge area, but all of it is owned by some Mazhani or other. It needs land. It needs space. And, once you get beyond the shield of the Kasnakani Range, you have unrestricted movement for hundreds of thousands of barbarians. Establishing a foothold in their territories will cause them to swamp it, kill everyone, and loot it. No one is willing to take that kind of risk to establish a fortress, build a community, and constantly pour enormous resources into defending it.”

  “But the valley is defensible,” she mused. “They have to walk in. They can’t roll in like a rising tide.”

  “Yes. There are also some issues with the way the priests are interpreting the will of the gods, but that’s all I can tell you. I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Did you come up with the idea on your own? Or did someone have to come back and communicate the idea to you?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “To learn and grow, one should see and solve one’s own problems. I’m already having to point a few out. To make the life lesson most effective, you people have to do most of the work.”

  “Hmm.”

  “The Empire is stuck, stagnant. It needs to have more room to grow if it expects to survive. This is one step in the right direction.”