Ezekiel scowled. “For a long time, both New Israel and the Emirates have had a small number of miracle-workers. We've had our Tzaddikim and they had their Sihr, but neither of us had enough for it to be a military advantage.
“But now we both know that we can prepare a whole new generation of Tzaddikim, by making plenty of everflames and exposing children to them. Just as they know how to make an army of Sihr by exposing their children to everwheels and whatever other artifacts they have. The influx of swizzles and thermodynes from will only accelerate the trend, if we let this trade agreement be ratified.
“We can't wait for that to happen, Isaac! The Emirates already has a larger population than we do, thanks to their larger area and warmer climate for farming. If we simply trade and wait, it will be very hard to avoid a future in which the Emirates overrun us completely!”
Isaac put his face in his hands. All of his negotiations, now for nothing. “Is there no way to change their minds?” he said. “We can't let this happen. Tell them I need to speak with them. Will you do that for me?”
“It's too late for that,” said Ezekiel. “They are preparing for war even as we speak.”
Chapter 82
Lester: Unwanted Promotion
“If you can’t explain it to a six year old, you don’t understand it yourself.”
- Albert Einstein
Now that he was a graduated wizard (or psionic engineer as Xander preferred to call them) he felt entitled to look into Xander's storeroom of artifacts without asking permission. Some of the items he had already seen, while others puzzled the hell out of him.
Item: two metal squares with a deep bluish-purple sheen. Must be some kind of Gift but he'd never seen a weave like it. The two squares stuck to each other like magnets...but not to anything else! Not even iron. So they couldn't be magnets. What were they good for?
Someone pounded on the door, then flung it open when they realized it was unlocked. Esteban lunged in, wild-eyed. “You've got to come quick! It's Xander!”
Lester hated to be interrupted but something in Esteban's face overruled whatever he had been going to say. He shot out of his chair like one of Kareef's paint balls and caught up to the older graduate as they both reached the stairwell. “What happened?”
Esteban yanked the door open. “He collapsed on the Governor's floor,” he threw over his shoulder, pounding down the stair with Lester hot on his heels.
By the time they reached the infirmary the assistants had laid the old wizard on a bed and Daniels had two fingers on Xander's wrist, taking his pulse. He didn't look happy. Xander's eyes had not opened but slight movements of his chest showed he was still breathing.
“What happened to him?” Lester asked.
“Shut up,” said Daniels. He drew some fluid from a bottle with a steel syringe and jabbed the hypodermic into Xander's left arm. He reached up with one hand and swung a small thruscope from his headband over one eye and peered at Xander's chest and neck.
The door behind them opened and the Governor stepped into the room. Kristana took one look at Xander and blanched. She turned to Daniels. “Is he dying?”
“Not today, if I can help it. But he's in a bad way.”
Kristana watched as Daniels listened to the old man's heartbeat. “What's wrong with him?”
Daniels straightened up still looking down at Xander. “Could be any number of things,” he said. “Heart attack, stroke, pulmonary embolism, take your pick.”
“But he seemed fine just yesterday, except for all the coughing.”
He eyed her. “You mean, fine, except for the cancer.”
“The WHAT?”
Daniels frowned. “He didn't tell you yet, did he? Typical. The old fool didn't want to worry you when you were preparing for another invasion. Well, too late to worry about telling you now. He might never get to. Xander's got a tumor in his upper lungs, probably from a combination of smoking and some radiation exposure he got last year fighting Brutus's tank.”
“And you helped him keep this a secret from me?”
“I was waiting for him to tell you himself.”
Daniels turned his gaze back to Xander's silent form. “He's dying, Kristana. Maybe not today, but soon. Unless a miracle happens.”
“I thought you doctors don't believe in miracles.” She glanced at the hypodermic. “What did you give him?”
“Just willow-bark water. I read that the Ancients used to give heart attack and stroke victims aspirin to thin the blood a little. The willow bark has something similar in it.”
“But I thought you said he has cancer.”
“He does. I've seen the tumor myself. But you never know. Having one problem doesn't guarantee you won't have others. A piece of the tumor might have worked into a blood vessel and caused a blockage.”
She brushed a strand of hair from Xander's forehead. “Is there anything you can do for him?”
“If I had the resources of the Ancients, a modern hospital with real equipment and a surgical team, then maybe. Of course, none of that would be necessary if I had a regen.”
“A what?”
“A tissue regenerator. It was one of the Gifts of the Tourists. With one of those his body could fix almost anything with a little food and rest.”
“Well, where do we get one?”
“We don't. They didn't last as long as the swizzles and everflames and coldboxes. After the Tourists left the system and we settled into a golden age, the regens were some of the first Gifts to start failing. I only know about them from stories passed down in my family. I've never actually seen one.”
The Governor took her hand off Xander's head and turned to Lester. She took a breath to steady herself. “I hope you're ready for a promotion. As of right now, you're my senior wizard. Take over running the school. He wouldn't want it all to fall apart without him.”
Lester swallowed. I'm not ready for this. He knows more than I do. But he straightened himself and looked her in the eye. “I'll do my best, your Excellency. The Xander School will keep his dream alive.”
She gazed down at the old wizard on the sickbed. “Yes. Keep his dream alive.” Her face tightened. “And find us a tissue regenerator!”
“If there are any left, we'll find one,” he promised her.
“It's worth a try,” said Daniels. “Now everyone get out of here. Clear out so we can do whatever we can for him.”
Lester grabbed Esteban's arm and pulled him toward the door, but Kristana didn't budge. “I'm not leaving.”
Daniels took one look at her and relented. “Fine. Stay. I'll get someone to send up some sandwiches and cider.”
Lester took the older graduate up to the School main floor and together they broke the news to the others. Shock and disbelief gave way to a somber silence in Nathan and an angry one in Kareef. Carolyn was dabbing at one eyes with the corner of her robe. Jeffrey turned and stared at nothing.
Lester shook his head mentally, looking at them. We've all been assuming the old man would be with us forever, he thought. Part of him wanted to break down too. But if he let that happen, Xander's dream could die. The School must go on.
What was that quote of the General's that he'd heard from Xander? You have to look like you know what to do, especially when you don't.
He squared his shoulders. “All right. Time to stop acting like babies. The old man wouldn't want everything to stop up here, just because he's not feeling well. Deal with it! We have work to do.”
Jeffrey turned. They all stared at him. Nathan's mouth was open. “You heard me! Kareef, take your gun down to the blacksmiths and tell them we need to start making hundreds of them. And tell them we need metal balls for ammunition, not paint. Take Carolyn with you to do the same for her fire gun. Esteban, get another paint sprayer together and help Nathan paint over this mess on the walls. Jeffrey, come with me down to Xander's room.”
“What are we going to do there?”
He hauled the stairwell door open for them before he answered. “
We're going to contact Lobsang and try to get him back. After that, we'll work on your pathspace skills.”
Jeffrey followed him down the stairs. “Get who back?”
“Another graduate of ours you haven't met.” He explained briefly on the way down.
Jeffrey frowned as he listened. “And Xander let him go after the Queen of Angeles on his own? What was he thinking?”
“It's complicated,” said Lester. “Basically, he couldn't really stop him from trying to rescue his family.”
They reached Xander and Lester's floor and Jeffrey held the door open for him. “Why didn't he send you with him, or some of the others?”
“It's not like we have a lot of wizards to spare, at the moment,” said Lester. “We could be getting more students at any time. And now that we know from you that heavy exposure to Xander's storeroom of artifacts can prepare basically anyone to learn to be a wizard, we won't be turning away anyone if we don't have to. Which means we have to have our graduates here to be the faculty and teach them.”
Jeffrey followed him into Xander's room. “You did well up there, just now,” he said. “Gave them all something to do besides worry. I wish I had someone like you down in Dallas.”
“You did,” Lester snapped. “In prison. But let's not go there. We need to find a blue metal ring, as in something to put on a finger."
“Why?”
“It's what I used to contact you on your way here.” He checked the table, then scanned the bookshelves. “I have to reach Lobsang and get his ass back here.”
Jeffrey helped him hunt for a couple of minutes. “Could he have had it on him down in the infirmary?” he asked.
“No, his fingers were bare. I would have noticed it, because he never wears jewelry.”
After another minute Jeffrey turned to him. “Is there anywhere else he keeps artifacts?”
“The storeroom! Yes, I should have thought of that.”
Lester dashed to the storeroom. Jeffrey followed close behind him. “You have a lot of stuff here,” he said.
“Got it!” said Lester, seeing the ring on a shelf. He snatched up the ring.
“How do you use it?”
“You just put it on, and think of the person you want to contact,” Lester told him. “It works better if it's someone you know. That's why Xander had me use it to contact you, instead of using it himself.”
He pushed the ring on his left middle finger and pictured Lobsang in his mind. Lobsang, it's Lester. Can you hear me?
“How well do you have to know – ”
“Shh! Don't distract me.” He tried again. Lobsang, this is Lester. Can you hear me? Answer me!
At first he heard nothing. But that had happened when he called Jeffrey, so he kept listening.
Finally, a reply came, like a voice inside the middle of his head. Lester? What is it? I'm kind of busy at the moment.
You need to turn around and come home, he sent. Xander has collapsed and he might not make it. We need everyone to help us find an artifact called a tissue regenerator to save him.
There was another pause before Lobsang replied. When he did, his mental voice had undertones of regret mingled with annoyance. I can't do that right now.
What? Didn't you hear me? Xander needs our help!
The level of irritation in Lobsang's mental contact increased. I heard you. But I'm already here, about to face the Queen. It's too late to stop now. If I survive, I'll try to find her rings and call you back, but right now I have to concentrate.
Chapter 83
Feather: Strange Faces, Strange Words
“They are not dead who live in the hearts they leave behind.”
– Tuscarora saying
When she reached the base of the mountain she turned right and headed south, looking for a pond or a river where she could find find something to eat. At least she had gotten below the snow line. Down here her stomach kept growling, but at least she wouldn't freeze to death.
She could barely keep moving. If she didn't find food soon, she would be too weak even to gather berries or hunt for grubs.
She lifted the flap of her herb bag to check on the Healstone. It was there all right. But it looked different than she remembered. Was it glowing a little less now? No, she thought, it's just harder to see the glow in sunlight.
Yes, that must be it. Back to putting one foot in front of the other. Same as before, without the snow.
She heard them long before she saw them. Two voices, one male, one female. But she could not quite make out what they were saying.
Trees did not grow close together here, as they did on the other side of the mountain, but here and there bushes and tall grass gave some cover. She moved forward carefully, hoping her stomach didn't growl and give her presence away.
Eventually she could make out a campfire with two people sitting next to it on a fallen tree. She could hear them clearly now, but she still had no idea what they were saying.
“Él se va a morir. Tienes que aceptarlo,” the man said.
“Usted no sabe eso. Él podría mejorar,” she retorted.
What were they talking about? If she could only figure that out, she might be able to work out an approximation of the meanings. The words were alien to her but, for example, if she knew they were talking about food (her stomach growled) she could tell from their tones whether they liked it or not.
She worked her way closer and then she saw a third form, a man, lying on a blanket. There was blood on the side of his head and his eyes were not open, but she could see from the rise and fall of his chest that he was still breathing, at least.
“Julio debería haber sido regresado,” the man said. Whatever it was, he didn't look happy about it.
The wind shifted toward her, and she smelled meat cooking. Her mouth watered, and, squinting, she could make out a couple of rabbits, skinned and skewered on sticks bent over the campfire. Whatever the man was annoyed about, it wasn't the food.
Feather pondered. She needed food. Surviving the cold that had taken most of her body's reserves. She had to have food. But how to get it? These people didn't look much better off than she was. They didn't have extra. And the man, he might be hungry but he didn't look weak, not like she was now. There was not much chance she could fight them for the meat.
Then her eyes fastened on the man lying on the blanket, and she knew what she had to do.
Feather stood up and walked toward them slowly, holding her hands up in the sir so they could see she had no weapons. “I'm alone, I'm hungry, and I'm not here to hurt you,” she said.
Their head jerked toward the sound of her voice and the man reached for a bow. She could only imagine what they were thinking. But she had to act now, before she became too weak to move and just curled up and died. “Please,” she said, “I've lost my tribe and I need your help.”
“¿Quién eres?” said the woman. The man had an arrow pointed at her now. “¿Qué deseas?”
“I don't speak your language,” Feather told her. She moved very slowly now, trying not to frighten the man with the bow. “But I might be able to help your friend. I am a healer.”
The man with the bow kept his eyes on her. He didn't lower his weapon. “Vete de aquí.” he growled. The words meant nothing to her, but his intent seemed clear.
Feather kept walking. If she gave up and left them, it seemed certain she would die. She was far too weak to hunt now.
“¿Estas loco? ¿No has oído lo que he dicho?” he demanded.
“Please, let me help,” she murmured, as she plodded slowly toward the injured man. The man with the bow watched her, his face grim, but he hadn't shot her yet, so she continued, step by step, until she could kneel down by the man with the blood on the side of his head.
She reached forward, slowly, and gently brushed the hair out of the way, looking at his skull. There was a bump, and a gash, as if someone had struck him with a club or a rock. “How did this happen?" she asked, knowing the answer would mean nothing.
“No lo toques,” the man growled.
“¡Espera!” the woman said, putting a hand on his arm. “Tal vez pueda ayudar.”
He doesn't want me touching the injured man, she thought, but she can see I'm trying to help.
She smiled at the woman, and turned to slowly open her herb bag. Inside, the Healstone twinkled, not with the steady green glow she was used to, but flickering like a fire about to go out. Oh please, let it not go out, she thought.
She reached with her hand and her mind and grasped the Healstone. Not knowing what to do, she tried to will some of her strength into that green glow. She had no idea if it would help, but she tried anyway. And then, slowly she reached out with her other hand and placed her palm on the bump on the man's head. She closed her eyes and asked the Great Spirit for help.
Use my strength, she thought. Heal him!
The woman gasped.
Feather opened her eyes. The green glow was climbing up her arm from the herb bag, and flowing across her body, down her other arm to envelop the man's head.
Yes, she prayed. Please, more, help his head.
The man with the bow lowered the arrow's point. He seemed less hostile now, more dumfounded.
The green glow had surrounded the man's entire body now, but seemed brightest around his head. She kept her hand there, willing the healing to increase.
After what seemed an eternity, the man's eyes twitched, then opened. His lips moved. “¿Que esta pasando?”
And then Feather's eyes seemed to close of their own accord, and she fell over onto the grass.
* * *
Cold water splashed her face. Feather groaned and opened her eyes, blinking as the brightness of the day forced her eyes to adjust to it. Something cold touched her lips. She blinked again and saw a metal cup. Opening her mouth, she let the woman pour water into her and swallowed.
After a minute, she forced herself to sit up. How long had she been unconscious? The man had her herb bag and had opened it. He held the Healstone in his hand, staring at it.
Tonespace: The Space of Energy (The Metaspace Chronicles Book 3) Page 34