by Myers, Karen
“Wash your face,” Zandaril called up after her. “Experimental smuts.”
“The badge of a hard-working technician” drifted back down.
Tak Tuzap paced nervously, and Zandaril stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “No fault to you if they’re difficult,” he said. “You’ve done what you could.”
He timed their approach and went to open the human door for them as they entered the farmyard. Zau Tselu paused to look around the yard first, as if seeking traces of their presence, then led the way into the stable. He was followed by a middle-aged woman and a young man, and Nek Kazu brought up the rear. Between them they carried two leather sacks and a couple of covered baskets.
Zandaril bowed to them and Penrys and Tak came up to help with their wet cloaks and hats. Penrys found pegs for everything, and soon the scent of wet wool joined warm horse and loose hay.
The woman cocked her head at Zandaril, and he felt the full force of her inspection. When she got a better look at Penrys’s face, an eyebrow rose.
“Introduce us,” she told Zau.
“This is Wan Tawa, the yankatmi of Lupmikya,” he said. “Her nephew, Wan Nozu.”
He looked over at Tak. “I’ve told her what you told us.”
With Tak’s help, Penrys pulled the benches into a rough open triangle. “Thank you for coming, yankatmi-chi. Please, won’t you take a seat?”
Wan Tawa and her nephew took the middle bench, Zau and Nek the second, and only then did Zandaril join Penrys on the third bench, patting the seat beside him to encourage Tak to roost there instead of pacing behind them nervously.
Nek offered the baskets to Zandaril. “A meal, for after. More food…” He waved a hand at the two wet leather sacks.
Penrys took the baskets and put them down at their feet. “Thank you, Nek-chi. We’re in your debt.”
“I shall explain, yes?” Zandaril asked Wan Tawa, and she waved her hand for him to proceed.
He shifted on the bench to face her squarely and sketched out his story with his hands as he spoke.
“In Yenit Ping they heard the story of Rasesdad invading your fair Neshilik. Early reports traveled downriver quickly, and the garrison at Jonggep didn’t wait for orders to prepare a first probe, to find out just what had happened.”
He glanced at Wan Tawa’s face, firm and expressionless. “It is a very long way, and though a force left Jonggep not long after, they are only just now approaching the Gates.”
“There was even enough time, apparently, to send to sarq-Zannib for a wizard,” Wan Tawa commented, dryly.
“It was so, yankatmi-chi. When the ships along the coast brought the news to Ussha that there were rumors of wizards with the Rasesni, they sent couriers to my tribe’s camp in the north, and word reached me. ‘Could we send a wizard,’ they asked, ‘to the gathering in Jonggep.’ I volunteered, and crossed the Low Pass with my horses. I caught them not long after they left.”
“And you?” Wan Tawa’s attention turned to Penrys.
“I’m an addition to the expedition, a couple of weeks after Zandaril joined. From the far North, from Ellech.”
It was a simple answer, but Zandaril hoped this local headwoman had no clear concept of the tall, fair-haired Northeners, since Penrys wouldn’t match that expectation.
“The soldiers reached the river south of Shaneng Ferry, a few days ago,” he said, “and the Commander gathers information.”
He gestured at his companions. “We’re part of that. It was thought useful for wizards to explore the presence of Rasesni wizards, if any, and report back.”
He laid his hand on Tak’s shoulder. “We picked up Tak Tuzap here on the river at the same time, and he told us his story.” He looked over at Zau. “The death of his uncle, and how he got out through the Gates.”
Wan Tawa pursed her lips as if digesting the story. “There must be others scouting this side of the Red Wall, not just you two.”
Zandaril shrugged. “I know little about that, yankatmi-chi.”
“And will tell us less,” she said. “But that’s the way it should be.” She glanced at her nephew. “So, what do you want with us? You can’t stay here, people will notice.”
“We won’t stay, to make it dangerous for you. We want to know, first, what is the truth? What happened?”
Wan Tawa raised her head and looked away from him. “Rasesni have been here before. When we pushed them out last time, some stayed. Many of us have Rasesni lines not far back, if we’re willing to admit it. They came back, is all we know, and brought the hill-tribes with them.”
“Was there fighting?” Penrys said.
“Of course, but not… not like an army. More like pushy neighbors, bullies. They wanted us out of the Song Em, especially, but they’re not as bloody as last time, if the old tales are to be believed.”
Nek spoke up. “That’s not what they say who escaped up here. Lost everything, they did.”
“But not their lives, mostly,” Wan Tawa said. “Poorer, but alive.”
She looked at Zandaril. “We’re taking in as many as we can. It helps that some of our own fled north themselves, or out through the Gates, like these folks.” She waved her hand around the stable. “If they’re not back soon, we’ll be settling some of the southerners here.”
She smoothed her skirt over her thighs. “I think they’ll be staying, again. They’re rededicating the temples, like last time. The priests are already here, sneaking about.”
“What about north of here, where most of the people are? Like his uncle?” Penrys said, cocking her head at Tak Tuzap.
Zau said, “We keep in touch, as we can. It’s just another twelve miles or so to Gonglik, and it’s very quiet right now. Some folk made trouble, and some got killed, like Tak Paknau, so most everyone else is keeping out of the way and waiting to see what’s next.”
“What happened to Linit Kungzet, the border fort, under the Horn?” Zandaril asked.
The four villagers looked at each other. “No one knows,” Wan Tawa said. “We’ve seen no soldiers at all, and heard no rumors about it.”
Wan Nozu said, “There are Rasesni soldiers quartered in Gonglik, and all the towns around there, but not here yet. Just some officers…” He trailed off.
Wan Tawa said briskly, “The officers take over the best properties in the outlying towns and displace the families. Rewards for them, if they stay, and control over us. That’s how it works.”
Zau glowered. “And they keep the young folk there to serve them.”
“Hostages?” Penrys asked.
Wan Tawa shrugged. “It was expected, it’s their way. So far, they haven’t abused them, and we keep the peace. But that’s why you must move on. They might see you. Even some of our own, fearing for their children, might decide to turn you in. We won’t risk reprisals, not until there’s no other choice.”
Nek added, “They’re better armed, and we have more to lose.”
“And they already hold the south,” Zandaril said. “Well, it’s not our job to plan strategy, that’s for more military minds.”
“What about wizards?” Penrys said. “Have you seen or heard of anything like that?”
Zau looked at Wan Tawa and hesitated.
“Tell them,” she said.
“The towns east and north of here, to the Gates… They talk of wizards. Especially in Gonglik, with all their temples. We don’t know the truth of it.”
Penrys looked at Zandaril. “Then that’s where we must go.” His stomach clenched, but he nodded.
“Can you help?” he asked the villagers.
“You’ll never pass in daylight,” Wan Nozu said. “But if you travel at night and remain indoors during the day…”
“I can guide them,” Tak Tuzap said, popping up from the bench.
“No, lad, you’re back home now. Time for you to stay put.” Zandaril tried to push him back down, but the boy eluded him.
“That’s not why I came back. You need me. I know those towns.”
> Wan Nozu looked at his aunt. “I could go with them, make them look less conspicuous. With their hoods up…”
Before Wan Tawa could draw breath to rebuke him, he added, “If I don’t get out of here, I’ll end up a hostage, too. Better to be out there doing something.”
She hesitated. “This wizard business… The Rasesni never had that before, and we don’t understand it. It’s worrisome, it is.” She examined Zandaril and his companions and came to a decision.
“You may go, nephew, to guide them.” She turned to Tak. “Can you find the big mill on the left, at the end of Lupmikya, along Gonglik road?”
When he nodded, she said, “Take everyone there, an hour after full dark. My nephew will meet you. You’ll have to leave your beasts behind—the Rasesni will take them otherwise. The mill needs horses and mules to deliver its grindings—you can leave them there. Might still be there if you come back. He’ll bring cloaks with hoods for you two.” She gestured at the wizards. “Use them.”
She looked around at the packs placed against the walls. “If you can’t carry it on your backs, you’ll have to leave it behind. The miller can help with that. I’ll talk to him today.”
She rose abruptly. “Anyone about?”
Before Zau could get to the door, Zandaril checked the vicinity, and he suspected Penrys did as well. “No one’s out there in the rain, yankatmi-chi.”
She stared at him, grimacing in distaste at the wizardly assurance.
“So. I wish you good fortune, and entrust you with my nephew’s safety.”
She glanced at Tak. “Can I not make you stay behind, boy?”
“No, yankatmi-chi.” Tak sidled closer to Wan Nozu and glanced up at his face, and Zandaril thought the two of them would partner up soon enough on the road.
Penrys fetched cloaks and hats while Zau, ignoring Zandaril’s words, peered carefully out through the rain, looking for witnesses.
They swept out of the stable into the muddy yard and Zandaril shut the door behind them.
“Well,” Penrys said. “If anyone can survive this invasion, she can. Let’s hope it gets no worse for them.”
“Or for us,” Zandaril said, contemplating trudging through the mud with a heavy pack.
CHAPTER 24
“Zandaril, I know how he did it,” Penrys said.
It was mid-morning, and she needed to take a break. If she explained it all to Zandaril, it would solidify her own understanding before she went on. She had what hours of daylight remained to learn as much as she could from the two stolen books.
Zandaril leaned over the stall door. “Show me.”
“Well, I can’t quite do that without making things go boom, but I can explain it all and I understand the steps.”
Tak Tuzap slipped into the stall and stood in a corner.
He’s bored. Let him stay—it’s not like it’ll make much sense to him.
“Remember how the power-stones are used, for control or for power?”
Zandaril nodded.
“They found a way to combine all that.”
She held up two small power-stones, the smallest she could find. She didn’t know how to separate them again after the demonstration, and she hated to waste any of the larger ones.
“If I put these face-to-face, along the widest part of the cut stone, see, like this… and then bind them directly to each other, the way I showed you, with raw physical magic… I can attach them together along the surface in a way I don’t know how to break again. Maybe there’s some method for it.” She waved her hand at the open book on the bench beside her.
“Now the goal is—you were right, by the way—to make them pull in opposite directions. But not at once, or it blows up in your face! What you do is…” She lifted one of the simple wooden blocks with its pre-drilled holes.
“You put them there and for each one, separately, you tell it to pull on the wooden edge.” She laid the joined stones down on their side, with the outer points directed at the raised border of the slab. “You don’t give them any power, yet, you understand? So they can’t do much.”
“Under tension, like a crossbow,” Zandaril said.
“Yes, something like that. So you make a trigger, like for a crossbow. This one’s a simple detect sensor. If it feels a touch…” She tapped her forehead. “And what that does is let a powered stone pour into the bound ones. Maybe more than one—I’m not sure how many it takes. It was the powered stones I could sense.”
Zandaril said, “But what does that do? It’s not strong enough, is it? Rotating the wagon, remember?”
“That’s not where the energy comes from. All the power does is make it possible for the joined stones to pull themselves apart to opposite sides of the framework. Once it’s been set up, then if you focus enough power on the edge of the bond, it rips apart the rest of the bond and destroys the stones, like one rock starting an avalanche. The bond bursting, according to the book, is what creates the explosion. Apparently there’s nothing left afterward.”
“Easy to join,” Zandaril said, “Hard to break, destruction when it breaks. The crossbow string shatters.”
“That’s it. I don’t know why that works, maybe it’ll be explained further on, but that’s the principle.”
“Can you disarm them, once they’re set, like uncocking a crossbow?”
“Not by magic. You’d have to physically remove the trigger or the bound stones.”
“This is very good,” Zandaril said. “You make progress.”
Penrys held up her hand. “I still don’t know how the mirror communication worked. That’s something completely different. And if one of those devices was attached to the mirror, how did Veneshjug or whoever it was keep from triggering it at the same time? And why didn’t he just blow it up right then, and kill the officers, decapitate the command of the expedition?”
“Maybe the device was on the storage box for the mirror, not the mirror itself, where it might have been noticed,” Zandaril said.
Penrys turned that thought over in her mind. “You could be right—that would fit.”
She looked down at the book. “But I still have a lot to do. I have to read through both of these books before we go tonight and memorize as much as I can. I don’t dare take them with us, and I can’t leave them behind—they’re priceless, whole new approaches to physical magic. What they would give for these in the Collegium! But if we’re caught with them…”
Tak Tuzap spoke up from his corner. “If they catch you, you’re in trouble anyway. You don’t look right. They’ll know you don’t belong.”
Zandaril said, “He’s right. If we don’t get out, it doesn’t matter. If we do, you’ll want them with you. Keep them in your pack, with the stones. Maybe you’ll get to use them.”
I don’t want to leave them behind, that’s for sure.
“One thing, though,” she said. “You told me there weren’t Rasesni wizards, but it’s not true. These books aren’t beginners’ work, they’re sophisticated and clever. There’s nothing like them in the Collegium.”
“What does the front matter of the book say?”
She turned to the beginning. “The language is Rasesni, or I couldn’t read it, drawing on the locals here. It’s an older version of the language that they speak. There’s a date.” She pulled the knowledge of the current year in the Rasesni dating system from the occupiers in the village. “Seems to be about twenty-five years old. Name but no description of the author, no information about his sources.” She sniffed at the leather binding. “Doesn’t smell all that new.”
She looked up at Zandaril. “This one’s all about experimental techniques. The other one’s theory.”
Penrys pulled the second book out of the pack. “I haven’t tackled this one yet, but I’ve got to. Different author, three years more recent, no context.”
“Doesn’t make any sense. We’d have heard of wizards there before now. I think that’s why Yenit Ping is so alarmed.”
“Look at the titles,”
she said. “Venesha Zhablig, Venesh’s Secret Way” and “Venesha Chos, The Glories of Venesh.” What are the Rasesni religions like?”
“Gods jealous of each other, with dedicated worshipers. Priests everywhere, and the Hand of the Mountains—that’s the name of a group of hill-tribes—enforcing their will. Assassins, secret cults.”
Zandaril’s hand stroked his shaven cheeks. “We’ve heard rumors about this, in sarq-Zannib. Every now and then a small caravan returns through the High Pass in Song Em with news of a wizard born in Neshilik. Twice that I know of the child has been found and sent to us for fostering, but usually they live their lives untrained or, worse, they are discovered and killed. And there is much Rasesni blood in Neshilik.”
He slapped the books on the table. “No one can visit Rasesdad—foreigners are not allowed, outside the ports. The summons from Kigali seemed like an opportunity to learn more about this. And now we know they have wizards.”
“And esoteric knowledge, apparently. Maybe no one’s supposed to know about their wizards. I guess that’s part of what we have to find out,” she said, as she rotated her head on her neck until the joints cracked.
Sitting back down on the bench, she picked up the first book again and opened it where she’d slipped a bit of straw to marked the page. “Back to work.”
Zandaril spent much of the afternoon dozing in preparation for their travel in the evening. Part of the time he lay awake in the loft, casually monitoring Penrys’s activity below. It was quiet—she’d laid aside actual experiments and was trying to read as much as she could before they had to pack up and go. The rain gradually subsided, giving way to an autumn chill.
She’d invited him to watch over her shoulder, as it were, but little of what she skimmed made much sense to him, not without her knowledge of physical magic.
And the puzzle she presented to him…
When she forgot herself in her work, it made him smile, much as he tried to hide it from her. Her enthusiasm was infectious—there was an actual gleam in her eye. It woke an echo in him, a memory of being a young irghulaj, a student. But she wasn’t that young, not really. She seemed to him about his own age, or perhaps a little less.