by Garon Whited
“Okay.”
“Can I try it?”
“Sure.” I stood aside and let her take over. She still couldn’t cast a scrying spell, but she could operate it. She practiced a bit, doing the whole pan-and-scan over Zirafel’s ruins, before zeroing in on the treasury building. It was a big, solid structure with a deeply forbidding air about it. Someone obviously told the architect, “Make it imposing. Make it loom. Make it look back at observers, preferably with a scowl.” The architect did his job.
The treasure-hunters had already broken in; the double doors in front were open. One hung askew while the other lay off to one side. I wondered how they did it. Wizardry and a big hammer seemed indicated.
She moved the point of view in through the door. The treasury building had more to it than a big vault full of money. It was a place of business, like a bank. There were lots of places where money could change hands or where people working for the treasury could explain why people not working for the treasury couldn’t have any of it. Mary searched through the place for a bit and we spotted signs of the guys’ passage. The equivalent of cash drawers had been forced open and emptied, for one thing; every drawer, box, and container had been cracked.
Mary did find them. They were down two floors, through three more doors, and were currently counting loot they’d already recovered. Vort, their wizard, was muttering and waving his hands at another door. Judging from the grins and the occasional playfulness with loose coins, everyone seemed pleased.
The image swam away, leaving only reflection. It still seems strange to have one during the day.
“Nice job,” I told her. “You have a light touch. You drive the thing wonderfully.”
“I’ve used drones to plot the layout of a target,” she informed me. “These are just different controls.”
“Fair enough. Now, let’s call the receptionist back and see if we get the same response.”
“I’ve got an idea. How about I call her back and you stay out of sight?”
“You think it really had something to do with me?”
“You’re persona non grata, right? They think you’re some terrible tyrant, Dread Lord?”
“Demon King,” I corrected. “And I’m more likely to be regarded as an exceptional tyrant. Even so, I still have a hard time believing some random lady on magic mirror duty would react like that. All I want is to get hold of T’yl so he can answer some questions.”
“So I’ll call and ask to speak with him. If you have to place a direct call, we’ll find that out.”
“Probably the best course,” I sighed. “Please do.”
She tried. I had to help with the details—the equivalent of dialing the specific number. Once that went off, she handled it perfectly.
The mirror swam and I stepped out of the way. I couldn’t see what went on, but they couldn’t see me, either. I also couldn’t hear them, but I could hear Mary.
They rapidly ran into communication difficulties. From my position, I gave Mary a translation spell for Rethven; after that, things went much more smoothly. Mary said she was a wizard in the Lands of the West and wanted to reach the magician T’yl. She didn’t get much help from the person on the other end. Eventually, she closed the connection.
“Apparently, we’ve called someplace named Carrillon,” she informed me. “T’yl is in the Fortress of the East, whatever that is. The girl on the other end of the line says it’s impossible to reach anyone inside the Fortress; we’ll have to use some other method, or actually go there.”
“Huh. They moved the mirrors to Carrillon?” I thought about it for a minute. “It was the old capitol of Rethven. It has symbolic significance. I guess my worse half moved there to occupy the old seat of government. It would make a better impression to have the old throne and crown and scepter and whatever. It’s also closer to everyone, rather than out in the boonies beyond the Eastrange…”
“Do you have a map I could look at, perchance?”
I didn’t, but I could raise the point of view of a scrying mirror until both Karvalen and Carrillon were in frame. I pointed out Karvalen, the mountain out in the eastern plains right on the eastern edge of the mirror. Then the Eastrange, to the left of it, and had to explain why it was called the Eastrange—because Rethven, farther west, looked east and saw a huge range of mountains. Then there were the rivers, forests, farmlands, and cities of Rethven itself. And, finally, Carrillon, down south on the coast, well to the west of the mountains.
I noticed the roads of Rethven, between the cities, were easy to see and pretty much all straight lines. I zoomed in on one and discovered it was solid stone, probably grown by my pet rock. Whatever else my worse self did, at least he solved the transportation problem within the kingdom. I hated those mud farms they called roads; maybe he did, too. Of course, it was also possible the mountain knew I hated the mud farms and did something about them while I was indisposed.
“There are a number of other cities,” I finished, “as you can see. I don’t know how many of them are significant at this point.”
“Got it. So, we’re chucking another message spell at T’yl?”
“Right on the first try. I plan to include a return-call number, basically, so he can reach us on this mirror.”
“Sweet. I’ll watch.”
So I put together the spell, loaded it for speed, and launched it in the general direction of Karvalen. I took the extra time to walk Mary through the process; she had lots of questions. It’s not the simplest spell, but with a little practice it ought to be within the limits of her skill.
“How long until he calls?” Mary wanted to know.
“Good question. It’s like voicemail; he’ll get it when he gets it. It can’t home in on him, exactly; he’s likely to be shielded from normal magical seeking. However, like the first one, I gave it several places he’s likely to be, or at least places he’ll check, starting with under the bed in Karvalen.”
“Fair enough. What shall we do with the rest of the afternoon?”
“I’d say we should teach you some basic healing spells and work through some language lessons,” I suggested, “but I think you already have other plans.”
She did. And whatever the mirror is really there for, it’s interesting to have it so close to the bed.
The faint, distant screaming was important, I grant you. At that exact moment, however, I had more urgent matters to concern me. To be fair, we both rolled out of the bed as soon as the moment passed. Mary grabbed guns; I grabbed Firebrand.
“What have you got?”
Nothing. They’re too far away.
“Bronze?”
I didn’t feel anything but a mild interest. Whatever it was, it wasn’t bothering her out in the courtyard.
“It’s the treasure-hunters,” Mary supplied. Of course, she was right. We dressed, hurried down, mounted up, and headed off. Bronze clanged to a halt at the treasury doors and we dismounted. Once inside, I conjured a light. Our daytime eyes may see well in dim light, but not in pitch black. Down the stairs and through broken doors, and there we were.
That’s a long way for a scream. But, to be fair, Zirafel is otherwise a silent, empty place. It echoes pretty well and we both have extremely sharp ears.
The vault door was some sort of ceramic or glass, milky-opaque, still closed. The floor in front of it was ankle-deep in dust. There was no sign of anyone. We searched the room—a matter of a few seconds; it was a small room, unadorned, with one way in and the vault door—and found nothing.
“Maybe they went through there and it closed behind them?” Mary asked, pointing at the vault door.
“No tracks in the dust,” I noted. “I’m actually kind of concerned about the dust.”
“What about it?”
“We didn’t see it when we checked in on them, remember? And they went through three other major doors to get to this point.”
“So how did all this dust get in here?” she finished. “Maybe the vault door disintegrated them?”
“Up,” I snapped, and moved to the stairs. “Now,” I emphasized. Mary followed me, surprised.
“What is it?” she asked, once we were in the next chamber up.
“If there’s a disintegration spell capable of reducing a half-dozen guys and their gear to dust in the space of a scream, I don’t want to be near it.”
“But the wizard guy—Vort. He was looking for things like that, right?”
“And looking at it too hard might have set it off.”
“That seems a little harsh. Although,” she considered, cocking her head, “only authorized personnel would make it down here, and they should know what sets it off.”
“Very true. My big worry is it might be on a timer. You have one minute to give the password, for example, before it assumes you’re a thief and reacts appropriately.”
“Ah. Took their security brutally seriously, did they?”
“They still do,” I pointed out. “Even in Rethven, killing a thief is considered a good way to stop one. Lethal traps or spells are perfectly acceptable in a private home.”
“I’ll bear that in mind. So, are we breaking into the vault?”
“I don’t see why.”
“Money?” she suggested.
“Not currently a problem.”
“They might be trapped inside?”
“Hmm. I’m not sure how that’s my problem, but you have a point. If they’re trapped, they can wait a couple of hours. We can revisit this tonight. I’d much rather tendril this at a distance.”
“I like the way you think. I’m all for adventure and excitement, but not when it’s this lethal.”
“You’re into stealing, not bomb disposal?”
“That’s a fair assessment.”
“I can respect that.”
We went back to the Palace, greeted the doorman, and went upstairs. I checked the spell on the mirror; it hadn’t activated while we were out. We took a bath and soaked for a while; Mary joined me in the warm soak.
“Got a question,” Mary started, her toes playing with my toes underwater.
“Shoot.”
“Is there anything to eat around here? I haven’t had anything all day.”
I arched an eyebrow. She grinned.
“I haven’t had anything substantial,” she corrected.
I arched the eyebrow more.
“I mean,” she added, exasperated, “I haven’t had any material amount of food. Pervert.”
“Freak.”
“Hungry freak.”
“Well, we have a couple of those ready-to-eat things and some cans of whatever-was-in-the-pantry. I’m not sure Zirafel has any edible wildlife. All I’ve seen is grass, weeds, vines, and a few small trees.”
“We really need more food.”
“The struggle is real,” I told her. She splashed me. “But we’ll see what we can hunt down tonight and save for tomorrow. Trust me. I know this drill. I’ve done it before.”
“Okay.”
The afternoon warmed up considerably; the sun was much closer to this end of the world in the latter half of the day. On the other hand, it didn’t feel as though the sun was at arm’s length, either. Does it travel in a circle, or in an oval? In the morning and evening, it has to be farther away or the edges of the world would melt… wouldn’t they?
I suppose it depends on whether or not the sun is inside or outside the anti-demon shield around the world. If it’s outside, does the shield affect it at the ends more than the middle? Or, if it’s inside, is the sun something like a variable star? Does it actually get dimmer at dawn and dusk so as not to fry the portion of the world nearest?
I haven’t actually seen a sunrise or sunset, here. Do they still look reddish, like on Earth? On a flat world, I wouldn’t think the variation in atmospheric thickness would cause that effect, but a variable star might.
Which got me to wondering again at the way weather worked around here. Or, rather, wondered how weather worked around here. I want a meteorologist who can keep his sanity long enough to analyze it. And a professional astronomer. And a bunch of other scientists. This place gives me a headache when I try to put it into a rational framework.
Well, a familiar framework. It may be perfectly reasonable and consistent by its own internal logic. The trouble is, I don’t understand the so-called logic any more than I approve of the so-called gods.
Suitably cleaned, pressed, and dressed, we returned to the treasury. Between Mary’s hypersensitive touch and my arcane knowledge, we figured out, yes, the vault door was the centerpiece for a collection of enchantments. Disintegration was, in fact, one of the effects it could generate, but only one of them. There were spells to prevent teleportation, interpenetration, and outright digging, too. It also had a number of alerts and alarms, along with a few things I couldn’t identify. All in all, the vault was still unbreached and likely to stay that way until someone with more time and motivation came after it.
Since the vault was intact, the dust was probably the mortal remains of the amateur archaeologists. I checked for ghosts and other wandering spirits, thinking the wizard might have hung around. Nothing. Either the complex of spells around the vault also did something to prevent ghosts, or they simply moved along on their own. Since we’re at the edge, it should be easy for a spirit to slip around and down… if that’s how things work around here.
Could we have cracked the vault? I don’t know. Mary was certainly all for trying, but I distracted her with the idea of biting our dinner. She was hungrier than she was curious. So was I, only on a lesser scale.
We found a number of prey animals in the area outside the city—deer, foxes, rabbits, even wild chickens and dazhu. That provided blood and vital essence for the evening, as well as meat for tomorrow.
In our further sightseeing around the ruins, we also found the building the amateur archaeologists used for a campsite; their horses and cart were parked outside. I moved the horses indoors; the night chill was showing their breath. Mary helped me get them settled in before we went through the leftover stuff. We salvaged some clothes, tools, water jugs, and all the food.
I went through their money and noted a lot of strange coins. A few might even have my face on them, if I were handsome and heroic-looking. Most of the money came in geometric shapes—triangles, squares, pentagons, and so on. I wondered whatever became of my decimal currency idea. Or was this more of a random sampling of money from several kingdoms?
“Eat the horses?” Mary suggested.
“Not unless we have to. Bronze doesn’t mind, but I think it’s impolite.”
“That’s fair.”
I checked the mirror again; still no call from T’yl. If he didn’t call before morning, I might have to light a fire under him. Or, better yet, build one to call Amber so she could light a less metaphorical one under him. We were pretty well stuck here until we had someplace to go, and we couldn’t plan where to go until we knew what was likely to get us killed. Well, likely to get me killed. Mary wasn’t a target, yet.
Mary and I spent some of the night sitting in my headspace. She perused apprentice memories garnered from my time with Jon, as well as the collated memory-impressions from a few hundred thousand meals. I did research into how the magicians of Zirafel built magical enchantments into things without making them blatantly obvious. Plus, I reviewed what I might have on the doorman, the vault, and the throne. Then there were our language lessons, building her basic Rethven vocabulary. Rethvenese? The local dialect of the old kingdom of Rethven.
I felt I learned a lot. So did Mary.
Firebrand warned me of an incoming call. We bailed out of my headspace and watched the mirror form an image.
T’yl’s semi-elvish countenance smiled at me from the mirror. The background resembled an underground chamber in Karvalen. Most structures have walls made up of individual blocks; those walls were smooth.
“Well, you seem to be none the worse for wear,” he noted, “and your quarters have improved.”
“You’d be amazed what you can find by looking,” I told him. He glanced at Mary.
“So I see. You’re back in the world?”
“I am. How are things at your end of the mirror?”
“Fair. Things have calmed down quite a bit in your absence. The Church of Light still thinks you need to be hunted down and destroyed, but I think the nobility of Karvalen are mostly settling in under the Queen.”
“They seemed uppity the last I heard.”
“They were. I’m not sure how she’s calmed them. I’m hardly a privy counselor.”
“Her loss. On that, how is Lissette?”
“She is doing well. She gave birth to her latest child with no complications shortly after you escaped.”
“How many does that make?”
“Five children, counting your heir. Five children in nine years has been difficult for her, not counting the three miscarriages. Thomen has become her personal physician; he has seen to it personally that healers from the Wizards’ Guild guard the health of the Queen.” T’yl licked his lips and looked away. “She’s a hard worker, that one.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I trust women to be greedy, short-sighted, and manipulative.”
“Oh. Well, we each judge on our own experience. By the way, this is Mary. She doesn’t speak the local language, yet. Please bear in mind I like her.”
“Noted,” he agreed. I switched to English to introduce T’yl. Mary smiled and sketched a small curtsy. T’yl smiled at her and nodded. I had T’yl hold for a moment while I ran through a translation spell for her.
“There we go. T’yl, Mary. Mary, T’yl. That’s better.”
“Pleased to meet you, T’yl.”
“And I, you, madam.” He turned his attention to me. “There are many more things we need to discuss.”
“Go ahead,” I told him. He glanced at Mary again. “Think of her as my apprentice,” I added.
“Oh. As you will. You’re still not welcome in Rethven. No one appreciated the casual way your other self regarded the lives of subjects. He was unpleasant, reactionary, and something of a sadist.”