Biomancy

by Desdemona Gunn

  Rhod’s head tilted in a fashion Elon took for her eyes rolling, a motion he found himself quite used to seeing on her. “They weren’t flings, Zippy. You’ve never had a fling. You won’t fuck someone you’ve been dating for a turn or two, why would you fuck somebody randomly?”

  “It’s not in my nature. I dated those ladies because I liked their company and thought they enjoyed mine. In the end, I found they only pretended they liked me for my intellect before caving and admitting they only wanted me for my body. I don’t put up with that shit.”

  “For gods’ sake, Zippy. It’s not that they only wanted to fuck you, they wanted everything about you, your mind, body, soul. It’s basic fuckin’ nature. People fuck. It’s what we do!”

  “Some might argue violence is also in our nature. You don’t find me regularly stabbing folk or shipping off to war.”

  “That’s what I’m saying. If you ‘stabbed’ a few more ladies...”

  “You know what I mean, Cherry.”

  “I do! And your point is invalid and sucks.”

  “My point is far from invalid. So far, in fact, I’d say it’s... valid.”

  “You’ve had the chance to fuck at least six women and didn’t take it.”

  “I have restraint. You don’t.”

  “What the fuck good’s restraint when you could be in bed with someone? There’s no point in restraining yourself when there’s no harm, nothing to lose.”

  “Except self-respect.”

  “Gods, Zippy. You could stand to get off your high horse every once in a while and look at yourself objectively. Keeping yourself from a good night’s fuck isn’t the best way of showing you’re of sound mind and superior intellect. It’s a good way to show off you’re insecure and pretentious. Try being like the rest of us every once in a while.”

  “What if I like where I am?”

  “Then maybe you can’t yet. Regardless, I’m hooking you up with a friend of mine.”

  “No, Cherry.”

  “You’ll like her!”

  “No, Cherry.”

  “She’s pretty!”

  “No, Cherry.”

  “Well, pretty like me, I mean.”

  “Goth?”

  “No, smart-ass, she’s a Noji. She’s cute, got long hair, likes to wear frilly dresses, is majoring in life magic, minors in earth and water.”

  “Druid?”

  “How astute. Her name’s Idrilis, and she’s single and looking for some hot young Northman intellect.”

  “Fuck you, Cherry.”

  “What? Ain’t that what you want?”

  “Why do you think that all my problems, which I don’t have, by the way, will be solved by a woman?”

  “Your problems won’t be solved by a woman, I never said they would be. You just might be a little fucking happier. Is that so bad? Is it so wrong that I wanna see a smile on your face once in a blue fucking moon?”

  Her hand, clothed in a fingerless leather glove, went to her face, fingers going to her eyes and temples. She lowered it and took a deep drag of the cigar, lighting the tip a brilliant red. With a sigh of defeat, smoke pouring from the void that was her mouth, Elon said, “Okay, fine. Set us up. I’ll meet this Idrilis of yours.”

  “Is it even gonna be worth it, Zippy? You’ve made it abundantly clear you don’t give a shit about anything that could make you happy other than your books.”

  He reached over the table, grabbing her shoulders. “Cherry. I said yes. You won. The only thing making it bittersweet is your own damn gothiness.”

  Arianrhod took another deep puff from the cigar, and Elon noticed the cherry glowed against her gloves and the rings in her face, but her skin refused to reflect it. He pondered this as she stared at him for a long while. While not obvious at a glance, he could feel her eyes meeting his, connecting, looking into him. Despite not being able to even see her eyes, he felt that he found them; he could practically feel himself looking into her, feeling her depression, her empathy, her altruism, her pain. She wanted to help, but his belligerence was making that impossible for her. He suddenly couldn’t blame her for her endless exasperation over the turns.

  After at least a minute, he felt a smile creep into her demeanor as she said, “Xaven’s. 7:00 anon. Be there.”

  “The slaughterhouse?”

  “It’s a meat market, and yes. And besides, she’s plastidraed class.”

  “Ah. Plant-master.”

  “Yeah, all deep-rooted connection to the plant world, pun intended, but not really to animals. She lives on meat, dude.”

  A blank stare rang between the two. “You can... do that?”

  “She hasn’t eaten anything but meat in a hundred turns and she’s still kicking. I’m honestly not sure if a Northman like you could get away with it, but we starry folk can live on raw flesh, I guess.”

  “Raw flesh, or cooked flesh?”

  “She eats it raw, but she’ll also take it cooked when at dinner parties and shit, so I dunno.”

  “How does she process it? How does she get all the nutrients she needs?”

  “Probably from all the rotting bits she’s got in a special tank, I don’t fuckin’ know. I eat my leafy greens, I’m not on the slaughterhouse diet.”

  “But how does she-”

  She put a finger over his lips. “Hey. Zippy. You can ask her after a sleep. On your date.”

  He groaned. “Fine. If this goes south, Cherry...”

  “You’ll have no one to blame but yourself. She’s a good girl, Liz. You’ll like her.”

  Chapter 18: On Holy Ground

  The City of Arghan’Sul, Ghostfire Prefecture

  As she came to her senses, before she bothered to open her eyes, she felt comfortable. Oddly comfortable. She was lying down, probably in a bed, though not her own. No, it was noticeably more comfortable than her own, which was no four-poster fanciness. Her sister inherited a nice bed from a former mayor, but Lea got stuck with a typical civilian bed. No, this mattress was more comfortable; almost as comfortable as Ani’s, but not quite.

  A light shone bright overhead as her eyes slowly opened, squinted, tried once more to open fully, failed in the presence of the overbearing green light over her, and closed once more. Her head fell to the left as her eyes opened once more to see the blur of a stone room. Glasses, right.

  A man clothed in heavy robes leaned over her bed suddenly and stared into her eyes, meeting hers with his own vivid yellow eyes. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. It then occurred to her that she, in fact, couldn’t hear anything at all. The room was dead silent, no creaks, moans of pain, shuffling of feet, howling of wind, nothing at all. She went to speak and felt her vocal chords moving, but heard no sound. “What,” she tried to ask, hoping the words would come out right. Speaking was decidedly more difficult with no aural feedback, she was rapidly finding.

  He spoke again, still wordlessly. Again, she tried to speak, saying, “I can’t hear anything,” hoping to the gods she’d spent the past dozens of turns actively defying that her words would be coherent. Close enough, she figured as the man called over a few more.

  They waved wands and runed rocks over her, trying to find her ailment, why she couldn’t hear them, at least she assumed as much. This lasted a few minutes before she got bored of wondering why she couldn’t hear. She reached over, found her glasses beside the bed, and donned them. Her head up, propped on the pillow behind her, she took in the sight of a row of beds to her left, all nice but decidedly plain, all with folks in them. Mostly Northmen, and most sleeping or noticeably in pain. Closest was a woman with a knife hilt sticking out of her slowly rising and falling chest. She looked down at her own body and tested her responses. Her arm picked up fine, turned in the air at her command with full sensory input, but she still couldn’t
feel her legs. As she glanced down, she found out why.

  Seven or eight fingers up from her knee sat a bandage covering a stump. Everything past the bandage was gone. No knees, no calves, no feet, just cut right off on both legs. She felt her head drop back onto the pillow hard as her arms flopped to the sides, blood rushing to her head suddenly. “Where’s Amber,” she tried her damndest to ask. She saw the men look at each other questioningly, unknown of either who this “Amber” was, or what in the seven hells she was saying.

  As her head flopped to her right, she saw two more beds, currently empty. Behind those beds, embedded into the wall, sat a huge stained glass piece of a tanned woman armed with plate mail and a glaive in a position akin to a city guard. Tze. Voorhaven’s a Mirfay hospital. Looks like I’m not in Voorhaven anymore.

  Leaning beside the window rested Anixemeter Incubore, a sight Lea was pleased to see. Her eyes were closed, probably resting. How long has she been here? How long have I been out? After a man leaned over Lea and shouted something at Ani, she awoke and ran over to the bed. “Where’s Amber,” she asked again, but Ani just looked at her confusedly before one of the men spoke to her. Ani’s face dropped as she said something melancholily before a look hit her face as though remembering something forgotten.

  She pulled out one of Lea’s telepath stones, and put her hands to Lea’s, the stone between them. A pink light flashed and Ani’s voice boomed into Lea’s head; while not quite a sound, it was a pleasure to “hear” something.

  Oh thank the gods you’re awake. What’s wrong?

  I can’t hear anything, Ani. Nothing’s coming through.

  That’s what the monk told me. What happened?

  Where’s Amber?

  They wouldn’t let her into the hospital. She’s in a cage at the front—

  Get her out of there. Bring her to me. The thoughts shot out as close to a bellow as a thought could be. She ripped the stone from Ani’s hand, and slammed it into a priest’s.

  My sister is getting me my rabbit. You will not stop her. She is my familiar, she will help me. I can’t hear a goddamned thing, so tell me what’s wrong.

  He started speaking at her, but she cut him off with her thoughts.

  Gods be damned, you stupid bastard, I just told you I can’t hear a fucking word coming out of your mouth. She breathed deep, and exhaled slowly. Think it to me, project words with your mind in my direction. Think the words, and just imagine you’re pushing them at my mind.

  Like... this?

  Yes, just like that. Now then, please tell me why I’m here.

  Your... legs had to be amputated. Your sister found you passed out in the bathroom with a bone saw buried into one of your legs. Voorhaven general hospital didn’t have the care needed, so she had you both ported to Arghan’Sul, which is where you are now.

  She ported me? For one, we can’t afford that. B: I’m surprised I’m in one goddamn piece! How in the hell—

  Ma’am, Miss Incubore. Secundus Alasdair Torbanson paid for the trip. He—Wait, Alasdair Torbanson? Of the rebellion? The fat one? He’s Secundus? Of Arghan’Sul? How the hell did that happen?

  He’s held that title for fifty turns, Miss Incubore. Now please, rest. You need to rest.

  As if on cue, she felt a pressure on her chest as she saw Anixemeter walk through a doorway. She mouthed something at her and shrugged as she saw a white bundle of fur on her chest.

  Hey there.

  Cages are dark. No cages. No cages.

  No cages, Amber. Not anymore...

  She stroked her from head to tail a few times as she drifted off to sleep, the green light above her bothering her less and less as sweet dreams of running through open fields took her. Sure, she hadn’t been able to run in a hundred turns, but she dreamed of fixing them. Now, without legs at all, her dream had officially turned from goal to fantasy.

  She awoke again to the green light above her head. As obnoxious as she found it, she said nothing. Amber woke up with her, sniffing around the room, though sitting firmly on her chest. The room around her was all stone, whether one big slate on the ceiling, a series of tiles on the floor, or bricks in the walls, it was all the same grey tone. Tapestries hung on the walls depicting either The Lawbringer herself or interpretations of The Seven.

  The other beds all had similar lanterns above their patients, almost all of them red. One other than hers was green, and she saw the patient sitting, reading a book. The other patients all appeared to be asleep.

  Anixemeter was sitting in a chair on the other side of the room talking to a collection of priests. The silver-tongued bitch. Going after a man of the cloth? She smirked as a priest ran into the room, a scroll in hand. Ani rose as everyone turned to face him. He was saying something, but the room still sat dead silent. As soon as we’re home, first thing I’m doing is fixing my fucking ears. Ugh, I never bothered to study inner ear anatomy.

  Suddenly, several of the priest’s faces dropped, but Ani stared right at the priest with the scroll, eyes boring into his soul. Lea saw a tear begin to well in her sister’s eye as the eyelid twitched slightly. Before she had a chance to flinch, knowing what was going to happen, remembering that look in her eye she’d seen but few times before, Anixemeter screamed so violently Lea swore she could almost hear something, her face wrought with nothing but raw pain and fury. She flipped around and punched the wall behind her.

  Times like that exact moment reminded Lea that her sister was indeed a soldier in Octavian’s Rebellion. That Anixemeter Incubore was the woman behind the plate mail with a heaving warhammer over her shoulder that laid siege to Kandra. That behind the skinny, toned exterior of a smooth politician was a warrior no one should be trifling with. That behind her warm, knowing brown eyes was a soldier that, if pushed, could put her fist through a solid stone wall.

  Two of the bricks were shattered into pieces as Ani’s fist sat on the other side of the wall resting in the office of a very confused priest. Luckily, she was in the perfect place to handle a broken hand, currently balled into a fist so tight a crowbar could hardly open it, painting the stone wall red with blood.

  She watched as they relaxed her hand, reset bones, and wrapped every finger with green arcane tendrils, which promptly fused bones back together, stitched skin, and healed over her wounds. Ani’s hand was fixed and in a bandage in a few minutes.

  As her sister was about to sit back into the chair she occupied just minutes ago, Lea whistled, a sound she was still confident she could make. Her confidence paid off as Ani looked over at her and trudged over. Lea slapped a stone into her hand, holding a grip with hers.

  So, what the hells was that, sis? We gotta pay for a new wall here now?

  Did the priest tell you why we’re here?

  Yeah, I suck at self-amputation and Mirfay’s House of Healing is terrible, so you got me ported over here without my permission.

  Yeah, pretty much. You remember my old buddy from the war, Alasdair?

  The crazy fat one with the flail, yeah.

  ... Yeah. He’s Secundus of Arghan’Sul now, so he could afford to pay our port ticket. Not only did he want to get you the best care, but he wanted to meet me for drinks.

  How long was I out?

  Only about sixteen cents. The sun’s down by now.

  So you already meet him?

  No. And now I won’t get the chance to.

  Lea stared at her sister, not thinking anything just yet.

  Lea, Alasdair was found dead in his office. I know you don’t follow trask tournaments, but the big Antrian one was held, one that Alasdair’s held the title of for turns on end. This Slagskin bitch came over from Gorenya and beat him down. Apparently she’s the champ over the pond. But he invites her over to his house for a congratulatory drink, and some guards walk in as she’s stabbing him in the temples. When she n
otices them, she slits his throat and drops him. Torby’s dead, Lea.

  She watched as her sister dropped to her knees, hand tightly gripping her sister’s around the stone. Ani buried her face in Lea’s side and cried. Lea, in turn, moved her head up to the crook of her shoulder, turned on her side, and held her sister, trying to ignore the pain that the pressure on her ribs exuded. Amber, who would normally have taken umbrage to her seat turning ninety degrees, understood and nuzzled Ani gently.

  I was so close, Lea. I was so goddamn close. He invited me out here, I got into the city, and I almost went for drinks with him, but I stayed to watch you, make sure you were okay. I was right there, Lea, and I missed him by that fucking much. Gods damn it, Lea. Damn that fucking Slagskin.

  You couldn’t have done anything, Ani. He took her home after the tournament, there wouldn’t have been any time anyway.

  I know... She stood up, still holding onto the stone. I’m going out. I need to relax.

  Come back in one piece. I need you to get home. I need you afterwards, too.

  They exchanged stares, Lea’s of empathy, Ani’s of a pathetic attempt to hide and subside her rage. In response to her sister, she let go of the stone, shouted something to the priests, and walked out of the room.

  Chapter 19: A State of Mind

  Nephkeska, Northern Milakria

  Across the room, Rhia glanced over at Barton Slade, a slender, toned man of a Milaric. His skin the creamy color of a fresh brewed masala chai glistened as light bounced off from the window making it gleam. Four piercing green eyes gazed dreamily across the room at Illune, sitting next to Rhia. Illy, whose roots had begun to show her natural red hair, sat casually next to Rhia writing away at her essay.