The Paladin Caper

by Patrick Weekes

  “I’m assuming that the competitor’s wing is shielded from the ambient magic that flooded the mine?” Hessler asked. “Layering a glamour over someone would burn their skin off, otherwise.”

  “Yes and no,” Tern said. “The ambient magic is decreasing, as far as we can tell. Maybe from what they’re doing to gather the energy, maybe from something else they’re doing to suppress it, I don’t know. But yes, they’re still locking the whole place off. They also added new locks to the big door on the processing center. It’s dwarven. I can do it, but it’s dwarven, so it won’t be fast.” She sighed. “They’ve also got dwarves and elves in the mine now. All the human miners are gone. From what we got from the Lapitemperum, it’s dwarves doing the mining, elves working the processing center. Just like old times.”

  “So. Heaven’s Spire. Transport rune to the event,” Loch said, “lift badges and pass through the competitor’s wing, distraction or stealth to give Tern time to crack the vault door and stop whatever the ancients are doing. Up on Heaven’s Spire, Desidora and Hessler prep the illusion of the Glimmering Folk returning. It goes off, the ancients panic and run, good-bye gate.”

  “Only question now is how we sneak onto Heaven’s Spire,” Kail said. “Because you know nothing good happens when we try to sneak onto Heaven’s Spire.”

  Loch shrugged. “This treeship can outrun any airship in the Republic. If there’s anything that can get us up there alive—”

  “You mean past the flamecannons that they haven’t taken down from when they picked another damn fight with the Empire?” Kail asked.

  “You ran it with Iofegemet,” Loch pointed out.

  “And Iofegemet had clearance from inside help and still also got shot down, may she rest in peace,” Kail said, bowing his head briefly. “Captain, we can’t just run it. If Pyvic can clear a ship, maybe—”

  “We can’t trust that Pyvic has the leeway to help us without being detected,” Loch said grimly.

  “I have a suggestion,” Icy said.

  Loch looked over with some surprise, as did everyone else.

  “All right, Icy, hit me,” Loch said after a moment.

  Icy sipped his tea, closed his eyes, swallowed, and said, “After our first adventure on Heaven’s Spire, I asked Tern to use her contacts to gather information on my behalf.”

  “Oh, Icy, no,” Tern said.

  “Among her findings was a ship made from black crystal,” Icy went on, “capable of becoming invisible and bypassing standard wards for covert entry. Such a ship would allow us to reach Heaven’s Spire undetected.”

  “No, seriously, Icy,” Tern said.

  “Sounds good,” Loch said, nodding and ignoring the increasingly tipsy Tern. “Where’s the ship?”

  Icy put his teacup down, folded his hands, and looked at Loch, which was when she got it. “Presumably still with your sister, former First Blade of Archvoyant Silestin.”

  The Paladin Club had opened recently on Heaven’s Spire. An old kahva-house had been purchased and demolished with impressive speed, and a large multistory building had been built to replace it, bypassing the normal permit application process thanks to a great deal of money and a great number of friends. The brownstone building reflected tasteful wealth and was furnished to look classically respectable in the way that only new money can.

  As expected from the name, membership in the club was contingent upon purchase of a paladin band. The first floor held athletic facilities suitable for the wealthiest members of the Republic, where paladins could exercise, train, and spar to the fullest of their newly enhanced abilities. The second floor held an impressive bar, a number of reading areas where mute elven servants brought kahva or tea as needed, and discreet private bedrooms for paladins interested in finding new uses for their enhanced stamina.

  The third floor was where actual work got done.

  Lesaguris sat at a table whose stained-wood top was inlaid with gold edging and whose bowed legs ended in dragon-head feet. He faced the window, and from his custom-made elf-leather office chair, he had a perfect view of the thriving city of Heaven’s Spire. His city.

  This evening, that view was blocked by Misters Skinner, Lively, and Slant, as well as Archvoyant Cevirt and former Archvoyant Bertram. Skinner, Lively, and Slant sat around the table, while Cevirt and Bertram stood attentively. Bertram held Ghylspwr, of course, and wore a fake band that had allowed him entrance.

  “Progress on the Festival of Excellence?” Lesaguris asked, taking a sip of expensive bourbon.

  “The optics are good,” Slant said, and fiddled with his band to call up some numbers. “Demand for tickets has outstripped top seating capacity, and with the upgrades to the puppeteers and their shows, we’ll have it on glamour-screens across the Republic. We’re still going back and forth on the Republic anthem as the opening number, and, I know, I know, patriotic, but it doesn’t zing.”

  “Lack of zinging noted,” Lesaguris said. “Other concerns?”

  “The main dance performance uses most of the paladin athletes and performers,” Slant said, pressing more buttons on his band, “and that does zing, but it’s also eighty percent men. If we had more female paladins, it’d play better.”

  “We’ve been over this.” Skinner shook his head. “I’m damn sick of adding women for gimmicks!”

  “But it plays better,” Slant insisted. “You want something mined, you make a dwarf, right? You want some crystals adjusted, you make an elf? Well, I want every red-blooded young man in the Republic paying attention and thinking about everything and everyone he could do if he were a paladin, and that means I need some pretty fresh-faced girls bouncing around—”

  “It’s hardly the same,” Lively cut in. “The elves and dwarves are tools. Every female paladin is one of our people stuck riding a woman. Would you want to ride a woman, Slant?”

  “Besyn larveth’is,” Ghylspwr said angrily.

  “You know what I mean,” Lively shot back, rolling his eyes. “Disgusting biological bits aside, they’re seen as lesser, as targets, by too many of the males. Our people deserve to ride predators, not prey.”

  “I’m talking about the optics,” Slant said with a hurt look.

  “Bad enough we’ve got Urujar wearing them. Might as well be putting a band on a farm animal,” Skinner muttered, and glanced over at Cevirt. “Right?”

  “I’m happy to serve in whatever capacity you need, sir,” Cevirt said with a polite smile. “Once the festival is done, though, I wouldn’t say no to a transfer to another thrall.”

  “Right.” Lesaguris tapped the table, and everyone went silent. “Slant, you get your girls. Cevirt, new scholarship deal for gifted young women, women are the backbone of the Republic, and so on?”

  “Of course, sir.” Cevirt nodded.

  “Once the festival is over, Slant, I want a story about possible concerns for older women using the bands. Something concerning but not terrible.”

  “Dangers during pregnancy,” Skinner said. “Or maybe it’s harder to get pregnant?”

  Slant pointed at Skinner. “Oh yes, that will play. They do anything for their babies.”

  “Kun-kabynalti osu fuir’is!” Ghylspwr snapped.

  “Calm your spark.” Skinner snorted. “The bands won’t actually mess up their breeding.”

  “Good.” Lesaguris nodded. “You get your dancing girls, and our people don’t have to worry about riding them when they’re old and fat. Skinner, the mine and processing center?”

  “Elves and dwarves are fully controlled,” Skinner said proudly. “Surprised the Republic didn’t think to use them before. Still have the Hunter golems investigating the kobolds, though,” he added with a frown. “Don’t want that trash affecting the work.”

  “Are they altering the energy balance?” Lively asked. “If you need me to—”

  “No, no.” Skinner waved. “We’re fine.” Lively raised his hands in mock surrender.

  “Stay on it,” Lesaguris said. “Lively, anything new on the
bands?”

  “I’ve got a new update to the core energy matrix rolling out tomorrow morning,” Lively said, tapping his own band. “It fixes a few small issues in the messaging program and adds route planning into the map system. It also digs a bit deeper into the host’s head, which should make it easier for our people to access memories and offer subconscious suggestions that are true to the host’s behavior.”

  “And there are no problems using the crystals on the underside of Heaven’s Spire for broadcasting?” Slant asked. “I’m amazed they’re still functional, with what the humans did to them while we were gone.”

  “And what they’re still doing,” Lively added. “It’d be easier if we killed off that little prison they have on the underside and switched over to golems.”

  “In time,” Lesaguris said, smiling. “We need people to have faith in Heaven’s Spire right now, and we can’t do that if we have another accident that causes it to kill a bunch of people.”

  “I know, I know.” Lively grinned. “I’m just saying. And despite the prisoners and their idiotic brooms, we’re good for the festival. No concerns.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Lesaguris said, looking to his people with a surprised smile. “We might actually get this thing done. Now if my pet Westteich can bring down the Urujar woman who’s been kicking us in the shins, we’ll be perfect.”

  Everyone smiled back, except for Bertram. Lesaguris wished Ghylspwr would take a little more active control of the man, but it was a small annoyance in an otherwise good day.

  Captain Thelenea stayed out of the way until the yelling was done. As a soldier, she understood that arguments were sometimes necessary, but elves did not have the mental fortitude to handle such emotional outbursts for long.

  When it was over, Captain Loch came to her and asked her to fly them to the Lochenville family estate. She even phrased it properly, noting it as something she would like rather than giving an order. While Thelenea had been outside the Elflands often enough to tolerate being given an order without flying into a rage, it was refreshing to see a human who respected elven values.

  Thelenea had her people set course for the barony of Lochenville. Among other elves, “orders” were given by the captain stating that it was necessary for the ship to travel to a location. The navigator would then volunteer to set the appropriate course, while the senior druid would volunteer to tend the treeship’s magical leaves and ensure good speed. Human airship sailors would sometimes suggest that this was functionally identical to giving orders, a remark that had led to more than one good-quality tavern fight in Thelenea’s career.

  But they were not orders. It was different. The implication was that even a human sailor would not know what to do, or worse, would choose not to do what was necessary, unless given a direct order. Elves, meanwhile, respected each other too much to claim ownership or mastery. When something was deemed necessary by one in a position of respect, elves did not need to be ordered around. They naturally volunteered to do what was necessary for the group as a whole to accomplish its objective.

  Alone in her cabin, Captain Thelenea opened a small wooden box in which glittering magical spores hummed and waited.

  “I am taking her to Lochenville estate,” she said, and the spores hummed, pulsed with warm green light as they captured her words, and then went dark as the message was sent.

  Whatever was necessary for the group.

  Fifteen

  A FEW DAYS later, the treeship reached the barony of Lochenville.

  Loch stood by Ululenia at the railing as her family’s land flew by far below them. There was the river that marked the border of the barony, cutting through the forest where Ululenia had periodically appeared to do business with her father. From this high, the trees looked like a rough green carpet, and the river was a silver wire catching the late-afternoon light.

  “I thought we had another day,” she said. “Still not used to how fast the treeships move.”

  “The elves would be a formidable force if they wished,” Ululenia said, holding the railing with both hands as though drawing strength from it. “Their druids have magic far stronger than mine.”

  Loch looked down at the tiny bridge where she had once practiced diving into the river. “Always thought you had the nature magic because you were something like a nature spirit.”

  Ululenia smiled. “We are as the chameleon in the grass, Little One. The ancient device that failed and weakened was in the middle of a forest, and so I came into being there, and saw what was around me, and thought in my innocence that it was what I should be.” She put a hand on Loch’s shoulder. “You, I believe, are the reverse.”

  “Maybe.” Loch looked at the long grassy field where she had learned to ride. The farmers had taken a few more acres for crops. Her father wouldn’t have allowed that.

  The estate itself came into view as the treeship came over a final hill that was really a small mountain, tall enough that the treeship had to divert course to go around it. Lochenville was a great castle once ringed by an old moat that Loch’s father had drained and filled in, leaving only different-colored stone to mark where water had once been. Around the castle, a town had sprung up, called Lochenville as well for simplicity.

  Loch looked down at the sturdy town houses and simple shops, thickest around the road that led to the main gates. When Loch had fled to join the army, the buildings had ended in a huge open-air market that served as a fairground when traveling performers came to play. The circular market was still there, but it was ringed entirely by buildings now, and stones had been laid down over the dirt she remembered. She remembered digging rocks out from where she’d scraped her knees falling on that dirt, and wondered where the kids played these days.

  “It has grown,” Ululenia observed.

  “Things do that.”

  “You have not been back since you left to join the war?”

  “No.” She remembered the cold predawn air and the unfamiliar weight of the pack on her back. It was filled with several days’ worth of food, pen and paper, all the money she had saved, and a letter from Cevirt that she was supposed to deliver to the recruiter. It had seemed so heavy, the straps tight around her arms as she quietly made her way to the stables for the ride her father had ordered her not to make. “No, I was stationed too far away to visit on leave, and then Silestin framed me, and he owned the land.”

  “You still would have had friends,” Ululenia pointed out.

  “Friends who would have gotten in trouble for helping me.” Loch grinned and looked over at her. “As we’ve seen.”

  “And because you left to prove yourself,” Ululenia added, “you could hardly return home with an enemy who had beaten you.”

  “Were you always this shrewd,” Loch asked, “or is this a new part of you being evil?”

  Ululenia smiled back and put a finger to the railing again, and a tiny flower sprouted and bloomed under her touch. “How will you approach your sister, Little One?”

  In a way, Loch was glad someone had finally asked. “I will appeal to our sisterhood and hope that she will help.”

  Ululenia blinked. “I see.”

  “It’s either that or open with, ‘Hi, remember how you tried to kill me while working for the guy who killed our parents, but then I took you down and had the chance to kill you, and I didn’t take it?’” Loch consciously stood straighter, aware that she’d begun to tense up. “I don’t know what I’m going to say. I have to play it by how she reacts.” And she’d thought they’d had another day, or at least had been telling herself that.

  An airship landing field was set up outside the town. It was empty, and the treeship settled down smoothly into the field, coming to rest with a nearly imperceptible little bump.

  Loch met Captain Thelenea at the gangplank. “Captain.”

  “Captain.” Thelenea smiled. “Would it help you if I had us remain here until you were certain that you had another means of transportation?”

  “I would appreciat
e that greatly.” Loch offered her hand, and Thelenea took it. “I will send someone back to report our progress, one way or another. If I don’t see you again, thank you.”

  “May you hunt well,” Thelenea said in reply, and Loch nodded and headed into town.

  “If I am not needed,” Ululenia said, “I will visit the forest.” She walked off, a pale woman in a pale dress, and shimmered into her natural form at the edge of the woods. The others followed behind Loch. She knew they were there, but kept her eyes on the town as she walked in and then through.

  The roads were indeed paved now, and in good shape. A wagon rolled in from the main highway, and Loch heard the horses’ hooves clopping on good-quality stones. The townsfolk, many Urujar but some white as well, nodded as she approached. Lochenville was big enough to have merchants’ wagons ringing the market, but small enough for the people to notice them coming.

  An old Urujar man was playing a jaunty tune on a six-stringed vihuela on the main stage of the market square while a puppeteers’ wagon set up the stage behind him. He had played in the predinner hours ever since Loch could remember, his old fingers plucking and strumming songs that the townsfolk likely did not even consciously hear anymore.

  “I have some ideas for how to deal with the ambient magic at Sunrise Canyon, now that I’ve seen it,” Hessler said. “I’ll need to pick up a few things.” Loch nodded, and he went off toward the stalls with Dairy in tow.

  “You going to be okay?” Tern asked.

  Loch smiled. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You’ve saved the Republic twice,” she said with a little more intensity than was really called for, “and you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “Thanks,” Loch said. “I appre—and we’re hugging? We’re hugging.” She patted Tern on the back. “Thanks, Tern.”