by Garon Whited
There were four crossbows, not three, along with a note. “You don’t mind that I participated, do you? —Chuck.” I didn’t mind. The four were prototypes, not production models. I did a little testing on my own and found no major fault with any of them. Mechanically, they had some variations, but they could be reproduced in the valley and could be made sturdy enough to see combat.
Nobody thought to send any crossbow quarrels and I was in a hurry. I used up a fair amount of magical grunt and plucked up a case of them from some alternate reality. Renata and Illaria watched me shoot things for a while before I handed the crossbows over and told them to get busy.
“Shoot things,” I ordered. “Set up some targets and practice. Cock, load, and shoot. Let me know which one of these is your favorite.”
“Favorite?” Illaria asked.
“If you’re being hunted by a bunch of savages from the western jungles and can only have one of these, which one would you take?”
“Oh.”
“Take your time—a week or more for each one. Get a good feel for it, practice shooting targets, and tell me what you like best about each of them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Meanwhile, anything you need here? Everything going well?”
“We have had few visitors,” Renata told me. “Annunciata and her daughters have been our chief companions and teachers. This place is full of wonders, but it is strange, indeed.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that for a second. But everything is going well?”
“We have had no problems we could not overcome.”
“Well, remember I’m right through this door. Don’t hesitate to ask for help.”
“We will.”
I disappeared into another world and immediately started transforming. I didn’t hit the timing right, so I came out during the sunset. I’m not sure it’s better than arriving after dark. There’s a sudden surge of catching up, then it settles down to a more normal progression. I didn’t enjoy it. At least with a sudden shift to night, it’s all over in one lump, like ripping off a bandage.
I sat down in the shift-booth and waited, rather than leave a trail to the shower. It occurred to me how much danger I was in. What if Renata or Illaria came through the shift-booth while I was waiting here—but while it was afternoon there? The contents of the booths exchange places, which would plunge me back into a daytime environment and force me to deal with the sudden slam-transformation into a living being.
I’ve moved faster, but I had time to psych myself up for those.
I just realized… the odds are against it, but imagine this: I step into a shift-booth at night and shift to the day. Ouch and ugh, I’m not enjoying it. But, due to the time-slippage, someone on this end transfers over, shifting me back to a nighttime world, forcing me to undergo rapid transformation. But, again, due to time-slippage, someone on the other end slams be back into the day! People panic and start hunting for me, shuttling back and forth between while I get bounced back and forth like Pong on a supercomputer.
It would require some terribly unlucky time-slippage, but it isn’t impossible. I need to work out some sort of safety protocol. Like, an “off” switch. Maybe a timer to allow a transferred person the opportunity to exit. Or a sensor to check if anyone is inside after a shift. If so, it won’t fire again until the door has been opened and closed. It may jam a shift-booth temporarily, but it’ll keep me from going in and being jerked right back. Yes, I think that’s best…
After the transformation ran its course, I cleaned up, berating myself the while. It could have gone seriously wrong, but it didn’t. I panicked needlessly. It was still a valid panic, though.
Time-slippage, however, works both ways. It could be a serious problem, but, in some instances, it can be extremely useful. Renata being in another world was designed to take advantage of it. I poked the alternate Earth a few times, connecting and reconnecting micro-gates to reset the temporal instability. Every connection instance appears to have a random jump—usually a similar amount of time goes by, but sometimes it’s almost no time, sometimes it’s considerably more.
I think—I haven’t tested it, but I think—every time I make a connection, it provokes a reaction. I’m not sure if this is because I’m connecting from a non-Earth timeline or if it works with any connection. I’ll have to test it.
The upshot of which, a few minutes later, Renata came through the shift-booth because a month had gone by on the other side.
I accepted her report on the crossbows. It was more extensive than I asked for. They gave me a list of things they liked and disliked about each model. It wasn’t a long list since they didn’t have a lot of familiarity with crossbows, but there were some minor details. Different sorts of sights, for example, the length of the shoulder stock, and the size of the foregrip. Things I hadn’t specified.
I sent her back and told her to check in just after sunset. Poke the alternate universe a few times…
We went back through the shift-barn, that being the only way to get Bronze to Texas. Bronze dressed in her pickup truck and we went into town. I had some debts to pay and a production model to commission.
Chuck wasn’t in his office, but I had his mobile number. We met for a cup of coffee—his cup of coffee—while I explained what changes I wanted made.
“I’ll need complete blueprints, construction diagrams, fully-drafted plans. And I expect to pay for them.”
“I can do that, but what about—”
I plopped four envelopes on the table.
“You all did good work,” I told him. “Fourth place also gets a prize.”
“Thank you. You want me to deliver these?”
I gauged his inner lights with some care. It was possible he expected to make off with all the money, but I didn’t think he would, especially with more work in the pipeline.
“Yes, please. And look into someplace where they can manufacture these.”
“How many in a production run? And do you want it in a sealed bid format, or…?”
“Let’s say five thousand for a first run, along with a dozen quarrels for each. As for bids, forget it. I’m more interested in quality, not price. I despise being ripped off, but I have no problem paying top dollar for top quality, either. And it goes without saying I pay my lawyers top dollar. So find me someplace willing to take this seriously.”
“I’ll look into it, but actual manufacturers, factories… I’m a graduate assistant at the university.”
“But you know people who have graduated. Professors, professionals, the journals they read, all of that.”
“Yes. Yes, I suppose so. I can’t make a promise about this, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“I like a man who won’t promise if he isn’t sure. If you find someone, let my staff at the house know. They’ll let me know.”
“Consider it done.”
We shook on the deal and I went back to the house to explain to Renata and Illaria.
I also gave Renata a magical prenatal exam. She wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl, so I told her, as well as letting her know her soon-to-be daughter was coming along nicely. An exam was proper, of course, but mostly I wanted to know if my pet light was in there. I didn’t find the light, nor did I find anything unusual about the developing fetus—at least, nothing mystical. I don’t know enough about the physical, medical aspects of fetal development to know what’s normal. At least it didn’t have three heads.
I also took care to keep my tendrils to myself. At night, they tend to drift a bit when I’m not paying attention, gravitating toward vitality. I can’t keep a houseplant alive with that nonsense going on. Then again, I’ve never been good at keeping houseplants alive. For safety, I have a minor spell to keep my tendrils in check. It’s no more an obstacle than a paper bag, but it saves me from explaining why everything around my house is slowly withering away.
Renata was pleased to know about her daughter, but also somewhat disappointed. I think she was hoping for a boy. If
she’s as beautiful as her mother, she’s going to have her mother’s problems. I tried to distract her a little.
“I apologize for not being around more often,” I told her. “Things are busy for me.”
“You are the Mazhani,” she informed me. “You have many responsibilities.”
“No kidding. I do have a couple of questions for you, though.”
“Yes?”
“Is the Temple at all interested in your child? Or is it strictly Naskarl who seems bent on getting his hands on her?”
“I…” she trailed off, thinking. “I believe it is Naskarl who desires… desires the child. I suppose the Temple may have an interest, but I have not seen it.”
“Could they be driving him to collect the kid?”
Renata blushed. Her whole life-glow turned an embarrassed shade. I wouldn’t call it ashamed, but certainly secretive about something personal.
“I do not think so.”
“Hmm. All right. What more do you need while you’re here?”
“If it please, this ‘card’ you have given me… it is useful only in the great houses of markets? The place where one may purchase food or other goods without haggling?”
“It’s a store card keyed to the bank. Yes, it only works at the big supermarket place.”
“Annunciata has spoken of things of great wonder. Things I should like to see and try, but they are not to be found within this super-market.”
“I’ll set up an allowance and get you a debit card. Come and get me in the morning—no, wait. Make it three o’clock. You know how to use the timekeeping device?”
“Yes. The two hands move at different speeds, pointing at the numbers. Illaria and I have spoken with Annunciata about the numbers of this country and she has instructed us. It has been most useful for knowing when she is to come to us and for the strangeness of the money.”
“Good. So, come get me at three.”
“I shall.”
So I went back through the closet, poked the universe…
Back in Texas, I hit the bank, set up a weekly fund transfer, signed for a debit card, and Bronze drove me back to the house. I gave Renata and Illaria some basic instruction on how it worked. I felt sure Annunciata would help them spend the money. I had no doubt she would be happy to shop with them. And, since it was a debit card, they couldn’t run up a bill, only exhaust the smaller, secondary account to which it was keyed. It should be safe enough.
I hung around until nightfall, enjoyed the needle-jets of a pressurized shower, and returned to the valley.
It was slightly after midnight. Sometimes, this temporal flux thing is awesome.
Most of the rest of my night was at the sand table, planning a heist and occasionally adding a function. With the notes from my spies—there’s really not a better word for the crew on scrying mirror duty—I examined the routes between the Sarcana estate and the places where they accumulated money before transporting it to their primary vault. Now, how best to interfere? The money transfers were all toward the end of the day, which might be a problem, but there was no reason not to crack the vault at night. Would it be better to grab the couriers or hit the places sending the money?
I whistled while I worked, happily making plans for armed robbery, maybe arson, and some light murder. I didn’t used to be this way.
The idea of armed robbery prompted me to wonder how legal this might be. There was a vendetta on, so direct assaults and military action were acceptable, but would this be viewed as such? Or would the authorities in the city step in? Where’s the line drawn? I wanted to talk to Hazir, but he was doubtless already asleep.
Still, there were other things needing doing. I used my scrying table to check on the west trading fort—almost complete, aside from gates and bars and whatnot for the tunnel mouth and the main gate in the wall. The bridge fortifications were also looking good, as was the bridge. A quick look around the valley perimeter showed nothing out of the ordinary, either. No one was camped out near the climbers’ routes into the valley.
I also did a quick flyover of the roadblock. It was no longer shielded from scrying observation. Three tents were shielded from penetration, though. At a guess, the commanders didn’t bother hiding the blockade now that the priests were in the valley. It might also have been due to the increase in the force. They had twice as many men, which may have spread them out beyond the borders of the shielding spell. Farther down the road, there were more men on the way.
Did they anticipate an attempt to break out, now that the priests were here to discuss whether or not we would surrender? Or did they anticipate an attack from outside forces, since I hired warriors from Sarashda? The first would mean they sent reinforcements about the same time the Temple sent the priests. The second would account for the additional troops headed their way.
I almost hoped they would feel frisky and attack. They weren’t getting through the bridge fort.
Since everything was going so well here, I popped a micro-gate into my pet pyramid. It was intact—nothing broke in. Not that I expected anything to, but it’s nice to know my emergency lair is ready.
I checked the time in Zombie World through my Ring of Spying. It was night, so a visit wouldn’t kill me. Bronze and I went through the gate in the barn. Eatonville had a furniture store, a one-stop-shop for all my pyramid furniture needs. I could use a comfy chair. I might not need a recliner, but why not have one? I won’t sleep on it, but a mattress to lie on might be a good idea. A couple of tables, a few heavy chairs, and maybe a flat-pack or two of miscellaneous furniture rounded out the list.
The entertainment center will never have a television, but it might have a magic mirror.
As long as I was adding things to my lairs, I set up a small gate in the Zombie World garage. Eatonville didn’t have any real jewelry stores and I didn’t feel like heading into a major city. Instead, I restricted the gate-work to the local world and focused on crystal shops. I grabbed another dozen large crystals. A little work to further purify their structures, a little basic enchantment to make them power storage, and I plugged six new ones into the rack for charging. The rest I put in my pet pyramid. It’s nice to have spares.
I unloaded furniture in the garage and seriously considered building a shift-booth in it. The mental math didn’t seem to indicate it would ever be cost-effective, though. Instead, I carefully set up all the furniture for easy movement before I even checked the time in the Cretaceous. It was night, but I had no idea how far along. Maybe I should set up a clock spell, something to monitor the progress of the heavens, like an old grandfather clock. Then I could tell at a glance if I should bother.
With everything laid out, I opened the gate. I stepped through already carrying the mattress by one handle and three of the chairs. Those went unceremoniously to the side, and I reached back through to drag in the worktable with stuff piled high on it. Bronze, wearing her statue, nudged the recliner closer and I yanked it through. She followed and I let the gate close.
Not bad.
I put the extra crystals in the rack to let them charge—it’s just a series of holes in the wall—and sorted out the furniture. Bedroom here, workroom there, a place to sit and read in here. I have a crash pad.
More spells. Repair spells so the furniture doesn’t get old in a thousand years of disuse. A day-night cycle clock, constantly monitoring the solar position—damn. I should have put one in Zombie World. I set up the clock spell, opened a small gate back to Zombie World, and stuck it on the wall opposite the micro-gate in the garage. It took a second to reorient, but it locked on and I closed the gate.
Bronze and I went back to our valley and I shut down the micro-gate connections holding the time differential steady.
Back in the tower, I had a couple of envelopes waiting. Renata came looking for me, dropped them off, and went back.
Sometimes this temporal flux thing makes things happen with dizzying speed. It’s going to take some getting used to.
I checked the e
nvelopes. They held contracts with manufacturing companies. I took them upstairs, reactivating the micro-gate to Texas as I went. I didn’t want them skipping ahead too far when I had things to settle. With Texas running at the same speed, I studied the contracts without worrying.
I sat down in my tower workroom, pulled out the papers, and hated them instantly. I read them, making notes on terms and conditions, materials and tolerances, warranties and guarantees. I wasn’t too concerned with how a warranty would work, but if they were prepared to offer a high-end warranty to guarantee the quality of their work, it spoke highly of their confidence in their workmanship.
The legalese killed the rest of my night.
Tauta, 26th Day of Milaskir
I signed documents and took a quick hop through the shift-booth to mail them and let the time differential do its thing. Then it was down to drill with the troops for a bit and have breakfast.
It’s a good morning. Strange. I’m in a good mood. I wonder why. Is it because I got a lot done last night? Is it because things seem to be going well? Or is it because I’m not thinking about how awful things could go?
Rather than think about it too hard and spoil it, I enjoyed it. The warriors certainly seemed to enjoy it. We started with a slow, controlled dance of unarmed moves, kind of like Tai Chi. It was really for me, not for them, but it’s a good warmup. Some more stretching, some running, and then everyone was lining up to get beaten on by the Mazhani. I don’t think my nominal title had much to do with it. They really did seem happy to be drilling. Maybe there comes a point when hard work and exercise start to feel normal.
Do they put antidepressants in the MREs? Maybe I should check. Whatever the reason, the morning “warmeets” were making a difference in attitude and in skill. They were all professional warriors to begin with, but daily workouts sharpened them markedly. I don’t know how much good it did for me, but it certainly didn’t hurt much.
After breakfast, I called Hazir. From the background, he was on his way somewhere when he took my call.
“Ah, my friend. How may I be of service?”