by Garon Whited
So I sorted out where I wanted to step through a gate, scouted out the Temple in question, and laid down some spell-work in preparation for my spying mission. Interestingly, the Temple in the farthest north was warded from casual scrying. I couldn’t look into it directly. A quick check of the other Temples revealed the same situation. I parked a scrying sensor across the street and looked in the door, but a sensor either bounced or disintegrated when trying to get inside. It was clearly a magical effect, not a celestial one, and it made me wonder. How much does each Temple pay their local wizards? How close is the relationship? Is it purely financial, or do the wizards enjoy not being persecuted as unclean wielders of powers Man Was Not Meant To Know?
I’d ask the local gods, but I’ll have to settle for some priests. Eventually.
I made sure I had sufficient charge for my transportation in the morning and spent the rest of it snatching food—usually a whole side of beef at a time. The MREs aren’t going to last forever, after all.
Tauta, 29th Day of Milaskir
The sand table rippled upward into a familiar face.
“How goes it?” I asked. My altar ego sighed.
“It’s not easy, but I think I’m getting there.”
“Prepped and ready for our excursion into the Temple?”
“I think so. This is going to eat into my energy budget, but I’m pretty sure we can pull it off.”
“I’ve still got your quantum computer crystal,” I pointed out. “Should I bring it?”
“Probably. Try looking through it at each of the idols.”
“Will it help?”
“It won’t hurt.”
“Fair enough.”
I prepared for my trip by shrinking my cloak down to a vest, borrowing some more middle-to-lower-class garments, and having an argument with Firebrand. Bronze agreed completely about not going. She’s unique and causes comment. Firebrand argued about where it was going to stay.
Look, Boss. I don’t mind you going off to get killed in some religious revelation, but where does it leave me?
“You can hang around with Velina. She’s in charge while I’m out.”
That’s not good enough.
“Okay, how about Tessera? Velina can use my Saber of Sharpness.”
Tessera is pretty bloodthirsty, Firebrand mused. She’s not in your weight class, but she’s dangerous. I guess I can live with her.
“So, it’s settled?”
I’d feel better going along.
“How? I don’t dare go in at night. I might burst into flame.”
Aren’t you one of the local gods, now that your altar ego is roaming around their energy plane?
“That’s a complicated theological question and I don’t want to test it.”
You mean you’re scared.
“Duh. You think?”
Fair enough.
“If I go in during the day, I won’t burn, but I don’t dare go in as myself. Word may have gone out and I might be… I don’t know. ‘Arrested’ seems like the wrong word. Maybe I’ll be accosted or assaulted. I’d do the cloak trick to conceal you, but it barely changes shape during the day.”
I don’t like it.
“Neither do I, which is why I had Velina get a dozen of her most brutal badasses lined up in the barn with Bronze. If anything goes wrong, we should still be able to communicate through the dedicated links between pocket mirrors. If I scream for help, I expect there to be a lot of burning and bloodshed.”
Hmm. I’m not sure if I hope you need help or not.
“I understand. It’s complicated.”
And, come to think of it, I would be delighted to have Velina carry me around. At least, for a while.
I handed off both swords and activated the portal. I emerged in Caracola, a medium-sized metropolitan center for the Empire, about as far north as one could get before hitting mountains again. The gate opened in a freight doorway behind a warehouse. I walked out of the alley and along the waterfront for a while. It was materially cooler at this latitude. Architecturally, it looked the same as Sarashda, but the wind from the harbor district gave it a completely different smell. The ships at anchor were, at first glance, similar to the ones in Sarashda, but there were differences. Many of them were flat-bottomed boats designed for shallower drafts than the others. Nevertheless, as I walked through the city they were putting out to sea or returning. Was there a reef or something they had to pass over?
The people were interesting. They were still predominantly dark-haired and dark-eyed, but their skin tone was lighter. Not pale, not white, but lighter. Did they live in the north because they disliked the heat and light, or were they adapting to their conditions? I didn’t see anyone even close to my own milk-on-paper skin tone, but I suppose a reputation for paleness might be the only thing any southerner might know. If they’ve never seen a northerner, my own coloration might lead them to assume I was one. If I’d arrived in a northern city without an updated disguise, what would they have made of my color, I wonder?
Eventually, I turned left, headed for the more upscale section of the city and the Temple therein. Nobody gave me a second look, for which I was partially grateful. Nobody cared if I was run over, either, and the horse-drawn traffic was about as considerate to pedestrians as a cab driver on meth. About as dangerous, too. At least the streets were cobbled or laid with paving-stones, depending on the district. I wondered about their sanitation and decided not to ask questions. I doubted I wanted to know the answers.
The Temple was typical: Big, domed, circular, with larger-than-life statues of eleven gods placed in niches, facing inward. Four tall, slim pillars supported the crown of the dome, spaced around where an oculus would usually be.
Why four pillars instead of three? Three would be in keeping with their peculiar numerology. Maybe they were architectural instead of symbolic. They marked the corners of a four-step raised area, a square piece of floor where priests clustered when not ministering to the faithful. The faithful followed the mosaic line on the floor, doing laps around the Temple and paying homage to each of the gods in turn before either leaving or consulting a priest.
I followed the line, keeping a slow, dignified pace, and paused at each statue. I kept the crystal in my fist and looked through it as though pretending my hand was a telescope. I saw no reason to advertise I was carrying fifty or sixty carats of what the locals would probably think was diamond. I saw no signs of divine manifestations, either, but the point was to let someone else look through my eyes. I didn’t have to see what he saw.
“What’ve you got?” I muttered. There was no answer, but he mention earlier how even looking would strain his budget. I finished my laps around the Temple and headed out the door. No one interfered. Why should they? No one knew my face. There were no gods to point at me and shout. I wore enough concealment magic to be nigh-invulnerable to magical detection and location. I was probably safer walking through the Temple than in my own home. No one was looking for me in the Temple!
A man’s home is his castle, but castles come under siege. Sometimes, I miss living in an RV and traveling constantly. The rest of the time, I come to my senses. I admit, I do need to consider toning down my community involvement. Building a new village to satisfy my requirement for people isn’t what I intended. Next time I need a lair, I should probably find someplace already established, move in, learn my way around the culture, and move somewhere else where they won’t hold my learning errors against me.
I summoned my gate, stepped through, and dismissed my rescue squad.
I spent the rest of the day stacking stones. The keep could draw stone from the bedrock under the valley, but moving rocks into place by hand speeded the process enormously. It gave the place an unfinished, somewhat chaotic look to have partial walls where actual walls would soon be, but it was that much less for the keep to grow into.
I also sent people off to make arrangements for more supplies. With the roadblock gone, we could have commerce with the Empire again. S
pogeyzer was entirely willing to part with its spare food—they had quite a surplus after the merchants were turned away. They bought much of it at a discount and sold it to us with a reasonable markup. I didn’t mind handing out stolen Sarcana money. War is profitable to someone, somewhere. It always is. Thirty-fourth Rule of Acquisition, if I remember.
Naskarl and I spoke in the afternoon. He was certain we could work something out for the vendetta. Since the only thing I wanted from him was information on Leisel, he was willing to look into the matter.
“Understand,” he cautioned, “I am still discussing some matters with Seronian, Priest of the Sight. He is telling me you are dangerous.”
“He may be right,” I admitted. “I’m not sure how he means it, but you have ample evidence I’m not to be trifled with.”
“Mmm. I will admit you are more troublesome than I had supposed.”
“Is he the one who encouraged you to declare vendetta?”
“He is the leader of the Temple here in Sarashda. As manzhani of my House, I have spoken with him often.”
“Is he aware of your… ah, the nature of the succession within your House?”
“He is not privy to the details.”
“Which brings me to one of our details. Have you decided what to do about the succession?”
“I am torn. While I want my sister to gnash her teeth and wail at the loss of her opportunity, I see difficulties in making it so. Even with your help, the risks of such a course may outweigh the pleasure of her discomfiture. I will settle for her sudden demise.”
“I see. You’re certain?”
“I am.”
“As the manzhani of your House—no, let me start again. I am uncertain of the exact nuances of customs within your House. Some Houses have more strict rules than others, you know. Within your House, is it always permitted for someone such as your sister to choose her own husband, or does the manzhani have the right to arrange a marriage for her?”
“Interesting idea,” Naskarl said, stroking his beard in a villainous fashion. “I am concerned about her marrying what would be the manzhani of another House, of course. Their heir would be perfectly placed to inherit both our Houses and so join them.”
“But to marry such a one, she would have to leave wherever she is and travel on the road for days,” I pointed out. “Such a journey is often fraught with peril.”
“I see. Yes, it would be lamentable if her journey proved too hazardous. The potential loss to both Houses would be considerable.”
“Shall I take that as an assent to the marriage of our Houses?”
“I should like to do so, but coming as it does so soon on the heels of a vendetta, if anything were to happen to my dear sister, I would be obligated to investigate.”
“It would look bad.”
“Yes.”
“All right. Where is she staying now?”
“Her current residence is in our estate amid the wheat fields, north of Sarashda.”
“Do you have a picture of her? I’d like to know what I might be marrying.”
“A portrait, yes. You are welcome to view it, if you wish.”
“Maybe you can bring it to the communication room sometime. Are you sure you want to go this route? I understand Nironda may have some difficulties as galvanais.”
“If my sister cannot command the title of the House from me, Nironda will serve in another wifely role.”
“Ah. Sensible. All right. Get me a look at her portrait when you can. And a map to the estate would be nice, too.”
“I shall make arrangements.”
“As will I. But, back to this priest. What was his name?”
“Seronian. He foresees a great conflict between your House and the ways of the Empire. He calls you a poisonous vine, bearing bitter fruit, to be torn up, roots and all.”
“Interesting. Let me ask you frankly: Does the Temple have assassins?”
“What?” he asked, startled.
“Beautiful women in purple who will knife you in the dark.”
“I… The Temple has… there are… hmm.” He thought for a moment. “The wearers of the purple are priests of the passions, consulted in such matters. A woman may be a priest of the purple, I suppose, presumably elevated from a less spiritual profession. I do not really know. The caste of the priesthood is often not where one was born. It demands there be no family, so it is unusual… hmm.” He shook his head. “I do not know. I can see how a woman of passions might also be deadly, but an assassin for the Temple? I have never heard of such a thing.”
“The Temple tends to hire anyone it needs, is that it?”
“Where they do not manipulate others, it has been my experience and understanding, yes. Why?”
“I’m thinking they sent an assassin after me. When I captured her, I sent Leisel to interrogate her. I’m thinking they settled for Leisel since I wasn’t there.”
“It raises some interesting questions about the powers of the Temple, or about the strength of their hired wizards.”
“I was thinking that, too. All right. Call me again when you have a map and a portrait, please.”
“I will.”
The image faded. I called for help and sent the help off to stack rocks. I, on the other hand, did what I should have done earlier. I took a look at the scryshield, set it to a fixed size, and added another power subroutine. Now it would monitor for spatial distortions without stopping them. It would set off an alarm, however, so someone sneaking in via teleportation or phasing or something similar would have a hard time.
I did remember to leave coded channels for my gate work, though. If I didn’t, we’d have alarms going off all the time.
Early in the evening, I spent some time with my Ring of Spying and my collection of power crystals, looking for Leisel. I learned a few things.
First, wherever she was, she was definitely shielded by a radiant version of a scryshield. Rather than a bubble-like barrier, the better grade of scryshield around these parts radiated from a central point, creating a solid sphere. My micro-gate did not latch on to her.
Second, pumping more power into a gate does not make it more likely to penetrate a shield. In using location spells, it is possible to drill through a barrier and overcome it. Sending out an immaterial wormhole so it will make contact with only the intended target doesn’t make it hit the barrier any harder. It only goes farther afield in searching.
Third, the scrying-distortion effect of a gate is a serious pain. My workaround for using a gate to view other universes is to park the sensor right on top of the opening and look around there. I can see clearly, as though I were standing at that point, but I can’t move my point of view without incurring rapid degradation of the image. Parking a gate opening near a scrying barrier does work, so directing energies through it to attack the barrier should, in theory, also work. The problem is putting the gate close enough. Directing spells through the gate requires not only the power to hold the gate, but the spells are subject to the same distorting effects a scrying spell encounters.
Within its limits, a scrying spell and gate combination is still useful.
The Temple is a circular structure, for the most part. It has several surrounding buildings for less-holy purposes. Presumably, there’s a kitchen and quarters, if nothing else. I’d guess there are meeting halls and conference chambers, study rooms, a library, and all the things you need for the care and feeding of priests and the raising of little priests. The barrier, on the other hand, is an invisible line around it all, reminding me uncomfortably of the invisible line around the Vatican.
Parking a gate near this barrier isn’t too hard, but it must, by default, be a brute-force gate. Those aren’t as stable as a two-gate system. They also require more power to keep open, and if I’m going to be directing magical energy down a magical gateway, it’ll take even more power to shield it from the forces involved. So, in theory, I can park a gate right next to the barrier and pummel it until it cracks.
Anot
her idea is to open a somewhat larger gate, simply look through, and analyze the nature of the barrier. I suspect it will be another enchanted object—or several of them—generating scryshields. If it was a spell, taking it down wouldn’t be too difficult. Obvious to anyone with any magical sensitivity, but not difficult. An enchanted object, though, will require either a ridiculous amount of power to break or a covert mission into the center of the effect to physically assault the shield generator.
Where’s a thermal exhaust port when you need one?
The most annoying thing of all is the knowledge there are lots of these damned shielding things just in Sarashda. Taking down the one (or ones) protecting the Temple grounds from casual observation is no guarantee. Leisel could be inside any of the shielded areas. Of course, I’m assuming she’s somewhere inside the Temple and alive. If she’s dead and thoroughly disassembled, I can’t find her with this method, anyway. But I do assume she’s alive. It’s safer for everyone. And I do assume she’s in the Temple, because Naskarl seems genuinely interested in a less-expensive end to the vendetta. Therefore, the Temple. I could easily be wrong, but it’s the first place to look.
With the sun down and my magical probes complete, I did a micro-gate scrying check on my various dynamo bases. Mostly, I wanted to make sure they were still whirring along and were in no danger of suffering from local interference. Another reason was to joggle the variable time rates involved. If even one of them hit a high-speed stretch, several months of output would make up for all the rest even if they all dropped to near zero.
I fired up my sand table and called god. I answered promptly.
“You rang?”
“In a manner of speaking. How are things up there?”
“Better. I’ve made some semi-permanent improvements, so things are easier, now. Think of it as building a cabin. It’s shelter and armor, and a place to keep things I don’t want to lose.”