by Dave Oliver
“Bye-bye for now,” she said softly to the bird. “We’ll talk later.”
Pod cocked his head and she followed Merrik into the hole in the back of the room.
She crawled through and entered the tiny alcove with shelves lining all of the walls, all holding a half dozen huge, ancient tomes. There was a stool to her left, and to the right was the large smooth stone altar with an opening in the front.
“So this is it?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
She wasted no time. She hiked up her dress and lay down on the floor, not seeming to care that the ancient alcove had never been washed or even swept.
“Your dress…”
“It’ll wash. Now, what have you done so far?”
“I’ve done the first sixteen steps in this book,” Merrik said as he grabbed the tome and opened it on his lap. “But before that I did some fiddling without instructions. I think that messed it up.”
A small piece clanked as Asra poked and prodded at the altar’s insides. “And what happened?”
“There’s a bunch of little rectangular symbols on the top, and three of them started to glow. A white one, a gray one, and a black one.”
“Okay. Let me fiddle with this.”
Merrik watched her fingers nimbly sort and push at things. She didn’t move anything just yet, but she got a feel for what could and couldn’t be moved. Particularly interesting was the look on her face. She was enjoying this. Merrik could barely stand thirty seconds down there actively pushing at things, but here she was taking a solid ten minutes just trying to understand the whole thing. He appreciated her love for puzzles, but he certainly couldn’t understand it.
“I think I have an idea for how this works. Want me to try a few things?”
Merrik raised his palms. “By all means. Consider it yours. I’m certainly not doing anything productive with it.”
She shoved a large rod to the left and pulled at the triangular dial. Underneath was a small, smooth disc. She spun it slightly and pushed it in. A loud thud sounded inside the altar, and it began to click as pieces moved on their own.
“What did you do? Did you solve it?”
She chuckled as she sat up. “I doubt it. That would be too easy, I think. But this may be resetting this thing to original state when you found it.”
Merrik blinked. “How did you manage that?” he said incredulously.
“If you get down real low and look up, you can see some etchings above that triangular dial. It makes it look like there’s something behind it. When I pulled it out, I saw two markings, so I lined them up and pushed. They looked like the same markings they use for the puzzle door in the Conclave vault, so I can only assume it’s to revert everything.” She glanced over at the moving pieces under the altar. “Seems to be working.”
Merrik slowly shook his head. “You’re brilliant.” If this thing was going back to how it was originally, he could just follow the book to do the rest. All of the worry, all of the stress, all of the physical pain he’d undergone while fretting about this thing released in a moment. He leaned forward and kissed Asra deeply. His lower back cracked and fired off a flare of pain, but he ignored it.
She startled in surprise, but she recovered and eased into the kiss.
A loud thunk sounded from the altar, and all the pieces stopped moving. Merrik pulled away and stared at the device. Asra sat still, expectant for more.
“What happened?”
She collected herself, only slightly showing her disappointment. “I think it’s done.”
Merrik pointed at the countless small rectangles littering the top. “Those three are still glowing. Are they not supposed to fade?”
“How would I know?”
“Let’s try these steps then.”
Asra lay back down and readied her hands inside the puzzle. “Let’s do this.”
***
It took a little over an hour of following the tome exactly to get through all the steps. Merrik got frustrated easily when a step was unclear or they couldn’t find what piece it was talking about, but Asra did a great job at diffusing tension. He was surprised at how relatively painless this all was with a partner. He smiled to himself at the idea that this could be a taste of what united life might be like.
“I think I got it.” Asra pulled the lever mentioned in the last step, and a quiet hum began. Suddenly, the air started to change. The room warped slightly.
Everything felt strange. It wasn’t quite brighter or darker; it was more like a higher level of contrast between colors. Not quite sharper in appearance, but definitely strange. Something in the air exhausted him. A smell accompanied the sensation. He had never smelled anything quite like this before. It didn’t smell like food, flora, or decay. It smelled more like a feeling—a sense of nervousness, to be exact. Whenever he took a breath, his blood began to warm and his heart would beat faster.
Activity began within the altar. Dust shook from it, warmth exuded from it, and colors began tracing across the surface. One by one, some of the other rectangles on top of the altar began to light up and join the white, black, and gray.
The first was orange. It popped on instantly, almost violently. The next was yellow, which slowly filled in the rectangle from top to bottom. The next was purple, which faded in over a few long moments. It faded out again shortly thereafter, but then faded back in to stay. Next was red, which appeared piece by disjointed piece. After that came green, which closed in on both the left and right sides like a gate being shut. The last one to appear was blue, which filled in its rectangle with small circles layered on top of one another.
Blue. There it was. The color Merrik had been watching for. He flipped to the pages that detailed this part of the ritual. Odd, but there was no mention of the purple item at all. Senrigal’s fairy tales, and his journals here as well, only talked about eight of the nine colors now glowing on top of the altar. He shrugged and disregarded it since blue was his real objective.
“Did we do it?” Asra asked.
“We did. We solved it.” He turned to her. “And you may have saved my life.”
She smiled for an instant, but confusion quickly overtook her face. “What did we do exactly? How does this help you out?”
“I’ll explain it to you over breakfast. After which I’ll need to prepare for a trip. A long trip.”
According to Senrigal’s crude map in his journals, it looked like the real-world location for this blue object was somewhere far to the east, nearly at the coast. If he followed the river Scarum to its southward bend then continued east, he should come right to it. He slammed the book closed and gave a wide smirk.
“Let’s go get some rest. I have a lot to tell you in the morning.”
CHAPTER TEN
It had been a week since Casselle’s first day as lieutenant, and her energy was completely sapped. It wasn’t from all the walking or the occasional fights—she was used to those things—it was having to deal with so many different people on a personal level. As a standard Warden grunt, the days had been pretty mindless. She walked her route and kept order. But now she had to talk to all kinds of different people, gently molding her attitude and approach for each one. It was exhausting. If she didn’t have Elress to lean on, she’d have been clamoring for a demotion.
She walked into her kitchen and grabbed an ale from the icebox. After popping the cap off, she fell so hard onto a dining chair that she feared it might break. Probably should have taken her armor off first. She downed the ale quickly before heading into the bedroom to change. When she came back out, she sat at the kitchen table and put her head down to rest her eyes. It felt good.
It was early evening when Ragna returned from the eastern market. She limped her way in, struggling to carry her pack of metalworks and leather. She made her way over to the table, where Casselle had her head buried in her arms.
“What, did I catch ya nappin’?” She gave Casselle a firm slap on the back. Casselle popped right up with a sharp intake of breath
and started rubbing her eyes.
“Sorry,” she said. “I must’ve fallen asleep. It was a stressful day.”
“Tell me about it,” Ragna replied as she headed into the back room. Clanks and slaps came from her workshop as she put away the various goods she’d purchased. She yelled out to Casselle, “How bad?”
“It could’ve been worse, I suppose. I’ve been playing the heavy when I need to, like you suggested. I think it helps.”
Ragna chuckled. “Dainty thing like you playing the heavy? I’d like to see that sometime.”
“You’d be proud, Ragna.” An old man with precisely trimmed silver hair and dark copper skin entered the open doorway. “May I come in?”
“Of course, Captain!” Casselle shot up from her seat and stood at attention.
“Bah,” Captain Rust responded with a wave of his hand as he eased the door shut behind him. “We’re not in the yard. I actually came down to share a drink with you—celebrate your first week as an officer. If your lovely wife doesn’t mind, that is.”
Ragna came out of the workshop wiping her hands clean on the filthiest rag in the August Quarter. She came over to the table with a glowing smile on her face. “I,” she said as she lifted a large jug of ale from underneath the table and slammed it down on top, “absolutely do not!” Nobody would ever go so far as to call Ragna a lovely woman in earnest, but she was positively beaming from the compliment. It was much better than those school kids who had called her “Frog” just because her face was a bit rounded and her eyes far apart. She wasn’t terribly self-conscious about it, but Casselle could always tell how happy she was when someone called her beautiful.
After a few drinks, the dim light of the room grew dreamy. As a general fog hazed Casselle’s vision, she finally let the stress of the day fall away and she allowed herself to simply enjoy the time with her wife and her mentor. Her lips felt numb, and her blood felt warm. This was exactly what she needed.
“So, you think I’ve been doing well?” Casselle said. “I bet I made enemies of Dint and his lackeys.”
“Ha, I’m sure you did,” replied Rust. “But I wouldn’t worry. Their kind comes and goes pretty quick. Some folks are just assholes through and through, even soldiers. When your job requires you to work with and rely on those around you more than if they were your brothers, that kind of stupid will get you killed.” Rust took a long drink and wiped the foam from his mustache. “I want to talk to you about the guy you brought in from the docks, though.”
Casselle sat up straight with only a little dizziness. She hadn’t heard anything about that guy or the strange amberarm since she brought them into lockup.
“You know he’s from the syndicate, right?”
She nodded. “I figured as much. Some researcher wouldn’t have the money or connections to smuggle something that valuable out of Provenance, let alone from the Amalgam.”
Rust nodded. “Very true. We’ve brought in some real researchers, and we’ve been consulting with the prisoner to try and get it figured out. The Directorate is very interested to hear what we find.”
“That’s good. It sounds like a dangerous piece of hardware.”
Ragna cleared her throat. “What’s so special about it?”
Rust turned to Ragna. “Well, normally an amberarm is packed with explosive amber from the north. The stuff’s too volatile though, so there’s a high chance it blows up the whole weapon and whoever is wielding it along with the target.”
Ragna nodded quickly, urging him to get on with it.
“Well, this new one from the Amalgam doesn’t use explosive amber at all. It uses some kind of powder or dust to make a more controlled explosion. It can safely fire a lethal projectile without any risk to the wielder.” He took a long drink from his glass. “The weapon itself is made of a new kind of metal we haven’t seen before either, and the construction of it is more solid than most of our own metalwork. This thing could be a game-changer.”
“Sounds like we need to take a look at some of that powder.”
Rust shook his head. “According to the syndicate prisoner, there was supposed to be some in that crate. It must’ve been left out.” He glanced at the two of them. “As interesting as all that is, it’s not why I mentioned it.”
“Oh?” Casselle filled her cup.
“Do you know what you’re getting into with the syndicate? They’re a powerful group, and you’ve been under their radar so far because of your father. But if you keep giving them trouble…”
Casselle’s face turned slightly red. “I am not my father!”
“I know, I know. But when a man helps create a secret underworld organization, they might figure his kid will hold the torch after he passes. When they see she doesn’t, they might come after her.”
Casselle’s hands began to shake. She took a deep breath to calm down. “Do you know how it feels, Captain? I always thought my father was a great man. Commander of the Ward and high-ranking member of the Directorate. He was my hero.” Her gaze found an unassuming corner of the room, and she stared until she lost focus. “Then I find out he’s this terrible villain, they take our home and patron status, they execute him for treasonous acts against the kingdom, and I’m left alone at fourteen to figure out life on the streets.”
Ragna reached over and held Casselle’s hand.
Tears came slowly from Casselle’s eyes as she turned her focus back to Rust. “I have a lot to prove here, Captain. That syndicate is my father’s…my legacy. I need to destroy it.”
Rust studied her for a moment before responding. “I get it. You have my full support in whatever action you want to take. Just remember that your reward for a job well done is going to be powerful enemies.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
“Well, I’ll let you two get back to your evening. I just wanted to make sure you’re careful and lean on me if you need it.”
Casselle nodded and Rust let himself out.
“That sure was a mood killer, wasn’t it?” Ragna asked.
Casselle smiled and laughed a bit. “I guess so.”
“What do you say we take the rest of the booze into bed?”
“That does sound good.” Casselle stood and wiped her face. “I would definitely like to lie down.”
They headed into the bedroom together, and Ragna worked on lightening the mood. That was always her specialty.
***
When Casselle took the field the next morning, her contingent lined up without being asked. Dint was back from medical and standing in formation, but he refused to make eye contact with her. His head still had a small bandage where she’d struck him, but he seemed fine otherwise. It was a hot and humid day, so she’d have to make this morning meeting a quick one.
She stepped in front of the group and eyed them all. “Good morning, everyone.”
They saluted.
“We have a couple special items to get through today.” Casselle took a note out from inside her breastplate and squinted. “Where is Dekler?”
A remarkably thin man stepped forward and saluted.
“You responsible for investigating the dead patron boy they found outside the walls?”
“Aye, sir. So far we’ve determined it was bandits, and they headed north after killing the child. We’ve recently come to suspect they’re also responsible for the missing patron girl.”
“If that’s the case, finding and returning that girl needs to be top priority. Her mother is the high judicator in the Directorate.”
Dekler nodded. “Both affected families have filed premiums to take care of the bandits and find the girl, but we haven’t had the manpower to pursue them.”
“Mmm. We still don’t. What’s your current post?”
“I’ve been seeing to the reconstruction of the bank in the Bowl,” Dekler said. “Making sure nobody tampers with the money or security placement.”
“You have any experience working afield? Want to pursue this yourself?”
“My grandfath
er was a tracker in the northern wood, and I learned a few things from him. I imagine it’s enough to catch up with some common bandits.”
“Good enough for me,” she said. “Accept the premiums, and it’s on your authority to spend however much of it you want on mercenaries. Take the rest for expenses and hazard pay.”
Whispers shot through the ranks. The Ward not taking any cut from a premium was unheard of.
“Quiet,” Casselle barked. “The rest of you, we’re changing things up. New partners and patrols have been posted in the mess. Take a look and get to work. That’s all.”
Groans filled the field as the group trudged toward the mess hall. Wardens were always upset when they had to deal with a new patrol, even more upset when they had to deal with a new partner. It was the best way to stem corruption, though. Two people get close enough, they might figure they can do some sketchy things and get away with it. Put them in the pit with someone they don’t know, and they think twice before breaking the law.
Casselle stood until everyone had dispersed, and then she walked over to the armory, where Dekler was making a requisition order.
“What’s the plan?” she asked him.
“Going to leave my armor and Ward-issued weapon here and go plainclothes. Figure I’ll ride alone until I get their scent, then pick up northern mercs if I need them. I might even be able to get them to help for free if I spin the story that they’re killing little kids.”
“Good plan. You have a lot of experience dealing with northerners?”
“Not really,” he said. “Like I said, I’d go tracking with my grandfather when I was wee, but I don’t think we ever actually came across a northerner. Always heard they’re real cold folk, real distant.”
“I’ve heard that too. Always curious to see the Halefort though. Sounds like quite the place.”
“I don’t think the bandits will have traveled that far. But if they did, I’ll write all about it in my report so you can get some sense of the place.”