But it made him wonder, grimly, how many of his fellow Praetorians could currently be trusted. It wasn’t a good feeling. Add to that the fact that while Livorus, Caetia, Lassair had all spoken for Dr. Sasaki, he wasn’t sure what he thought of the woman. . . it made for a fine stew inside of his mind as Kanmi paced back out to the living room, where Sasaki was getting ready for bed, making up the couch herself this time.
Kanmi poured himself his single permitted drink, measuring the arak carefully, and added water to it, watching the chemical reaction turn the drink white. “So,” he said, after a long moment. He wasn’t quite prepared to retreat into his own bedroom, no matter that she was clearly hinting that she was ready for privacy. “You’re noble-born. You’re pretty. You’re educated. Why didn’t your father marry you off?”
Sasaki stared at him. “Because most men do not like for their wives to be more powerful than they are. My talents are considered . . . unfeminine. Unattractive.” She folded herself down to the floor, tucking her legs to the side, neatly. He’d noticed she tended to prefer to sit that way, over taking a seat on any of the furniture.
Kanmi snorted, and took a sip of his drink. “Fools, then. Baal’s teeth, you’d be considered a catch in Chaldea. Took Lady Erida’s family eight years to find a man they considered proper for her. Nice noble family, with Magi connections, though he apparently doesn’t have a whit of power himself.” He shrugged. “Well, that, and she was busy boning her bodyguard, so her reluctance to accept any of her suitors might have related to that, too.” Look how well that turned out. He tipped his head back, finishing his drink, and turned to put the glass in the sink.
There was a faintly shocked pause, and then Sasaki ventured, “Lady Erida? The Chaldean Magus the others have mentioned?” Sasaki’s tone was diffident. “Were you close to her?”
Kanmi reviewed his own words. “I wasn’t the bodyguard, if that’s what you’re asking,” he noted, evenly. This brought back bad memories of Bastet’s unfounded accusations. “I admire her mind, and we still write regularly. Her new husband isn’t as intelligent as she is, so I hope, for her sake, she isn’t bored with him too quickly. When people are in unbalanced relationships, they get bored, and they don’t even realize it’s happening until they’re looking for outside stimulation.”
“I wouldn’t have said boredom was the issue for a non-sennin husband. Frustration and wounded pride, I can certainly see, however.”
“You think men have insufferable egos, and can’t cope with a woman more powerful than they are?” It was on the tip of Kanmi’s tongue to hold up Caetia and ben Maor as a counterexample, but while Adam didn’t seem threatened by Sigrun’s power, the valkyrie also more or less allowed ben Maor to wear the pants in that relationship. It wasn’t a question of deferring to him, though. Caetia had obviously declined positional authority as head of the detail, probably more than once. It just seemed that the valkyrie was comfortable precisely as she was. Except that, long-term. . . Kanmi had seen the way the other god-born had watched the pair at their wedding in the Odinhall. They’d covered their expressions of pity with smiles. It wasn’t that they thought Sigrun was slumming, so much as setting herself up for an enormous fall. . . .
Sasaki’s eyes had narrowed. “I said nothing of the kind.”
“You suggested that the problem would solely derive from the male side.”
“Male or female, the equation has to balance out.”
Kanmi’s eyebrows shot up. “On that, we actually agree.” He looked around, and realized he’d already put his glass away for the night. Damn. “At least we common-born can divorce with relative ease. For the nobility, marriage is usually political. But no one should ever marry someone fifty IQ points lower than themselves. The less intelligent half of the pair, male or female, will inevitably feel intimidated, and they will, eventually, lash out. Either by denigrating intelligence or education as a whole, or by trying to control the other’s behavior. . . because they know they’re lacking in something that the other half needs. And the other half will, eventually, go looking for what they need.” He shrugged. In Erida’s case, she’ll probably present her husband with a child or two, and then quietly start taking both birth control and lovers more to her liking. “So, yes. The equation needs to balance.
“What or who made you such a terrible, cynical person?” Sasaki’s voice was oddly sad from where she sat on the floor, looking up at him.
Kanmi blinked, taken aback. “Just the world. I am a student of human nature, doctor.” He shrugged. “I don’t see this ending well, but Erida sounds content enough in her letters currently. And I’m trying to be better at not telling people when they’re heading towards an inevitable train-wreck composed mostly of their own bad decisions.”
A spluttering choke from Minori, and he shook his head and went on, briskly, leaving the rest of the conversation behind. “Erida’s talents are somewhat akin to yours. Very. . . traditional. But she’s at least willing to think off the smoothly-worn road of everyone who’s gone before her.”
Minori sat up, if possible, even straighter. “What is wrong with traditional?”
“Oh, nothing, except that it can be predictable. Use water to wear down earth and put out fire. Use fire to destroy air. Use earth to shield against fire. Except I can shatter earth with proper excitation of its molecular structure, heating and chilling in rapid oscillations.” Kanmi shrugged.
“Your lady Erida did not agree any more than I do, I suppose? Traditional methods can be very effective!”
“She is not my lady,” Kanmi said, patiently. “No. She didn’t. Her bodyguard did succeed, using very traditional methods, in pulling almost all the water from my blood into my lungs and damned near drowning me. . . before he took her hostage and tried to kill her.” He watched as Minori’s eyes suddenly went huge, and her mouth fell open. Again, she was clearly a great theorist, but she’d never applied any of her talents in real combat. “Matrugena forced the water out of my lungs, but what was left in my veins was approximately the consistency of wet poured-stone,” he went on, clinically. He was ninety-percent sure that the boys were asleep in their room by now. But he kept his voice soft, just in case. “L. . . Asha kept my heart beating, and I used some non-traditional methods to pull the water back into my veins, which let my blood un-congeal.”
Her voice was horrified. “That must have been. . . very painful.”
“It was.” Kanmi shrugged. The fact that his heart had tried to go into cardiac arrest was one of the worst parts of the memory. “That being said? Erida killed her bodyguard herself. Neatest application of traditional air magic I’ve ever seen. She pinned him in a bubble of vacuum, like the little vortex you make ahead of your bullets, depressurized him, and suffocated him. I think that was only appropriate, don’t you?”
Sasaki licked her lips. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked, quietly.
“You asked about traditional versus non-traditional. Also, I need you to know that this isn’t a game.” Kanmi studied her for a moment.
“I am aware of that! Dr. Camulorix died because of all of this!”
“Just keep that in mind at all times.” Kanmi’s lips pulled down into a grim line. “I’ll be doing my best to keep you safe, and you are, from what I’ve seen so far, pretty good at protecting yourself. Just keep your head if anything goes wrong.”
“And what about you?” she asked, suddenly. “Who keeps you safe?”
“I do that, too.” Kanmi shrugged. “At least till the others arrive. It’s worked so far.” He glanced back towards the bedrooms, suddenly aware of a shuffling noise, which he identified as Bodi and Himi listening at their door, and sighed. Astarte, don’t let them have heard the bit about the blood-sludge. A ghost of a smile managed to sneak onto his face, as he let his voice grow in volume. “I’ve got too much work to do with these two boys to even consider letting myself get killed. And if their tails are not back in their beds by the time I reach their door, they will be standing to eat the
ir dinner tomorrow.” Which prompted scrambling behind the door. Kanmi shook his head. Speaking of predictable. . . .
“You did not test my abilities,” Minori said, just as Kanmi turned to walk down the hall.
Caught, he turned back towards her, raising his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
“The others. . . they tested me with pistols and self-defense. You did not test me with sorcery. I would know why not.” She hadn’t moved. Still sat, almost primly, on the floor.
Kanmi shrugged. He didn’t really know. “If everything goes right, you won’t need to use your abilities at all.”
“You do not generally strike me as such an optimist, Master Eshmunazar.”
“I’m not, Dr. Sasaki.” He sighed. “I saw and felt the constructs you built to use on me and Matrugena when we first met. They were solid. You’ll be fine if you can get past the first ten seconds of any violent event.” That’s when you really know if someone can handle themselves. When they’re surprised and bullets and magic are flying all over the place.
“But you did not wish to. . . ah, spar. . . with sorcery?”
“There’s nothing I can teach you in three weeks. No way in which I can really prepare you. ‘Live-fire’ is for guns and bombs. Sorcery, we can pull our punches all day long, but nothing teaches you to stay calm and do the math in your head and weave the power when your life is in danger. You can either do it, or you’re dead.” Kanmi’s words were brutal, and he knew it. “Military-grade sorcerers are in short supply because only half of us who have the power for it and are dumb enough to try it, survive our first contact with the enemy.” He gestured towards the couch. “We all need some sleep. Good night, Dr. Sasaki.”
___________________
Maius 10, 1960 AC
A direct flight from Rome to Cuzco wasn’t available; there was, however, a flight from Rome to Tenochtitlan, on a conventional, fixed-wing aircraft. . . followed by a connecting flight via ornithopter to Cuzco. Kanmi and Trennus were sent over first, each with a lover in tow, with tickets paid for, punctiliously, out of their own pockets. Kanmi rolled his eyes at the necessity of paying Sasaki’s way, but every detail needed to be right for this, and he thought he’d be reimbursed for this later. At least, he’d better be. Or he and the Finance Office were going to be having some very serious discussions.
Watching Trennus’ expression from across the aisle as the ornithopter began to ascend, however, made up for his own ill-temper. Matrugena didn’t like flying on his best day, and an ornithopter did not have a smooth flight on takeoff, like a fixed-wing craft. This one launched itself like a bird, gaining speed down the runway in the same way as a conventional aircraft, but also by beating its wings with powerful down-strokes. . . each of which made the fuselage lurch up in the air, and then fall back down again, briefly, before the next down-stroke.
As a result, Trennus had closed his eyes, and was clearly trying not to lose what they’d eaten for lunch on the last flight, while Lassair stroked his shoulder consolingly. “We’ll level out once the pilot finds a thermal,” Kanmi offered, not keeping the amusement out of his voice at all. “They’ll extend the additional wing-flaps for the glide portion, and then it’ll be one or two wing-beats every ten or fifteen minutes. You won’t notice a difference at altitude.” He paused. “Personally, I’m not a summoner, but even I wonder what they offer the spirits that power these things in bargain. . . plus, there’s the fact that the pilots can’t really fly by wire. They have to be paying attention every moment, adapting to every air current. . . .”
“This one’s ley-powered,” Trennus returned, his lips stiff.
You are not helping, Emberstone.
I really wasn’t trying to, Lassair.
Unkind.
That’s me, darling, that’s me. Kanmi plastered a bright smile on his face as the flight attendants came by with the cart, mostly to hide the grimace, and took Sasaki’s hand in his own. “What would you like, dear?” he asked her, trying to keep the needles out of his voice. The disguise wasn’t her idea. It probably wasn’t fair to take his irritation at the whole scheme out on her. Of course, considering the fact that she jumped whenever he touched her, he didn’t think that the disguise was going to be convincing at all.
“Ah. . . fruit juice, please,” she requested, politely. The stewards had mango juice, milk, wine, water, and pulque for this flight. Kanmi reviewed his options, grimaced, and opted for water, which he superheated, and then chilled in its ceramic cup, even as he handed Minori’s juice to her. The cups would be collected in about fifteen minutes by the stewards, and the bobbling flight of the ornithopter ensured that those few who accepted anything to drink, had to clutch their cups tightly, and not risk putting them on tray tables. Sasaki promptly flinched again as their fingers brushed on the surface of the cup.
Just who are we trying to fool? he thought, glumly, and got out a book to study, though the constant motion of the ornithopter’s wings made reading nauseating . . . but it let him look occupied, while he glanced at the rest of the passengers. The Source Initiative, and anyone else who happens to be threatened enough by her studies. Whoever it is, they were worried enough to kill for their agenda after seeing Praetorians contact her and the professor. So it’s fair to say that we can expect another attack, at some point. The ‘disguise’ at least gives us reason to have a Praetorian with her at all times. Damn it, we could have put her in with Tren, if Lassair wasn’t knocked up all of a sudden. Would have looked more convincing, I think. His mind was wandering, and he pulled it back on track.
Minori finally fell asleep; the flight was close to three thousand miles, and ornithopters simply couldn’t move at the speed of a jet. Thus, they were in the air for almost ten hours. Plenty of time for even Trennus to fall asleep. Kanmi didn’t. He stayed awake, reading, and trying to ignore the fact that Sasaki’s head had fallen against his shoulder. She’s going to have a very stiff neck when she wakes up, he decided. Also, a first-class case of embarrassment, but if I move her, that’s not going to fit well with the whole lover image, now is it?
About two hours from Cuzco, they actually passed over the Nazca region, and their pilot obligingly pointed out the salient features on the ground for them. Kanmi nudged Minori awake and jerked a thumb at the window as she lurched both awake and away at the same time. “You’re closer to the window, and you have the camera. . . dear. Mind taking a couple of pictures for the boys?”
The light of battle entered her eyes right then. “Of course I wouldn’t mind. . . dear. You know I adore your sons.” Her voice softened for the second half of her assertion, and Minori dug out the camera from the bag under the seat, and started taking pictures, as best she could. “On your right, you can see the Nazca river,” the pilot intoned. “Passengers on the right side of the ornithopter can see the spiral tail of the monkey figure, while passengers on the left can see, in the distance, the humming bird figure. Each figure is scraped into the desert pavement of the valley. Some are only geometric figures, others are long lines stretching across the whole of the valley. The monkey, humming bird, condor, vulture, iguana, spider, tree, dancing man, and other figures are ancient. Sociologists and archaeologists from Rome have traveled here to study how they have been built and continue to be used. The valley is unusually rich in ley-lines, and many of the patterns in the ground follow the directions of the ley-lines themselves. Suppositions made by Roman scholars have ranged from the lines being ritual paths walked by worshipers hoping to invoke rain, to crazy theories about attracting the attention of aliens.” Good-natured scorn in the pilot’s voice. “In truth, as you can see on the right side of the ornithopter. . . the local shamans have been adding to this desert art for centuries. These symbols have always represented the most important spirits, or huacas, known to the local people, previous to the establishment of the state religion of Tawantinsuyu, and as you can see, other spirits and gods have been added over the centuries. You can see the sun-mask of Inti ahead, the death-masks of Supay and Vichama.
The moon, symbol of Mamaquilla, the goddess most strongly associated with Artemis and Diana, regionally.”
Kanmi looked across the aisle at Trennus. Their long-standing debate over the origin of magical power was surely in for another round. Were the paths worn in the ground because the ley-lines were already there, was the power of people’s will and concerted belief what drew power there, did the power come from the gods, or did people give power to the gods, through the power of their will? Matrugena met the stare, and shrugged. “Idols,” he muttered, quietly.
“Foci,” Kanmi muttered back across the aisle at him, and jumped now, himself, as Minori put a hand on his shoulder and then slapped the camera into his palm with a smack. “Thank you, dear,” Kanmi told her, and put on another smile he didn’t feel.
On finally disembarking and getting to stretch their legs for a bit, they eventually found their hotel. Cuzco, itself, was, like Tenochtitlan to the north, an amalgam of modern and ancient cityscapes. The massive stone fortress of Sacsayhuamán remained the seat of the Sapa Inca; it actually, according to Kanmi’s reading, predated the Inca kings by hundreds of years, but had been taken over by them as their tribe had come to dominate the region. Built of massive stone blocks, and ranging over three terraces, the original walls were so tightly fitted, even without mortar, that a piece of foolscap couldn’t slide between them. A wide plaza dominated the interior of the fortress, though there were modern lights all along the outside.
Kanmi, on looking at it as they drove by in their taxi, couldn’t help but picture a time when, a thousand years ago, almost the entirety of a civilization had huddled inside those walls, waiting to be born. “Hard to believe the walls don’t topple over in earthquakes,” was, however, what he said to the others. “This area’s very geologically active, isn’t it?”
The Valkyrie (The Saga of Edda-Earth Book 1) Page 94