“All right. Here’s what we’ll do. Today’s assignment will go ahead as planned, but Rowan and Zae, you’ll use the net as your subject, and Ruby and Glivia, you’ll take the net-carrying device. If we get plans that work, then tomorrow we’ll start fabrication and construction. No rushing, people—these components won’t be cheap. Let’s do it right the first time.”
Yesterday Zae had gone over to the cathedral with just a small group, but now they all trailed down the street in twos and threes. They gathered at the top of the stairs, clumping up into a single knot of students, and made their way inside together. Halfway down the main hall, Zae got an uncomfortable tingle down her spine. She stopped, extending her senses, and turned toward Renwick to see if he had felt it, too. He gestured with his chin; the massive iron gear was churning down into place across the main entryway. The others continued on, not seeming to notice or care that they were all now trapped.
Though the hollow feeling in the pit of Zae’s stomach counted as a new experience, it wasn’t a welcome one. It would be okay, though. She could make food and conjure water, and she was sure several of the others could, too, and …
“It’s just a short cycle.” Renwick’s light touch on her elbow brought her back to herself. He prompted her to walk, leading her farther down the corridor. “It’ll be out of the way in three hours, and we’ll still be deep in our exercises then. You won’t even notice.”
Zae looked at the others, some of whom were still passing them at a comfortable stride. “They all know the cycle?”
“Nah. It’s not like it’s the same every day. You’ve got to observe a long time before you get a sense of the pattern. Learning the whole Cathedral is the test that separates the advanced students from the novices.”
She remembered Rowan mentioning that, as well. “Then they place a great deal of trust in you.”
Renwick scanned over the familiar faces. “Most of them. You’ll note a few absences. They’ll come along later, or they won’t.”
As always, it seemed the corridor at which her companions turned was chosen at random. Zae couldn’t help but notice that it was next to the hall the suspicious, unwell engineers had come out of the day before. Once she got to the workroom, she could see why Renwick had chosen it.
Where the other corridors she’d seen so far were lined with doors to small classrooms, or classroom-sized workrooms, this corridor’s rooms were lacking some interior walls. The space was more like a single long room than a suite of workshops. And the machines! There was a large stationary sawing machine that looked like a pillar, or a giant tree. Drills and presses with crank handles were bolted to the floor.
Renwick’s booming bassoon voice gathered all the students back to him. “For this assignment, you will conceive of a new device, and you will design two different versions of it. Sometimes, a thing must be simple and straightforward; it must do its job, and not attract the eye. But sometimes, a thing must demonstrate great artistry and beauty. A true artificer can take any device and strip it down to its most necessary components, or embellish it until it is fit for display in a palace. So. Draft your idea. Those of you with specific assignments know who you are. The rest of you, it must be something you haven’t made before. Design it once, with the greatest efficiency you can muster, and again for greatness of aesthetic. Both must be identically functional. You will find all the supplies you need on the shelves at the far end of the room.”
Zae bounced on her toes. This was an incredibly advanced assignment, and that excited her. She had been worried that she would be spending months learning the theories behind things she already knew how to do, performing boring exercises with no worldly applications. Tasks like this were a true challenge, one that would stretch the mind and abilities of any engineer. Yes, she was most assuredly in the right place.
“Are you ready?” Rowan had slipped up right beside Zae without her noticing. Together they walked toward the drafting tables and picked two side by side. Rowan lifted the hinged tabletop of his, manipulated something inside it, and when he put the lid down the writing surface was lit from underneath. Zae tried to mimic his actions, and saw a round metal tin inside her table, about the size of her closed fist.
When she removed the lid, cool light shone forth. She lowered her tabletop. “That’s brilliant. Is that a continuous light spell?”
Rowan grinned at her. “It’s the simple things, right? You didn’t answer me, by the way.”
Under the table was a pullout drawer that contained parchment, writing implements, and some simple straight-edges and templates for circles and curves.
“Sorry.” Zae selected a sheet of parchment and perused the drawing tools. “I’m ready, but distracted.”
“Overwhelmed?”
“A little. And a little surprised by how no one seems to care that we’re stuck in here.”
“Making you a little claustrophobic? It does that. Here.” Rowan tapped Zae’s blank parchment. “Just focus and don’t think about it. It’ll be open before you know it.”
Zae looked to her empty page, and then to Rowan’s, as if she might draw more inspiration from his than from her own. “So, net. That means making wire. It has to be thin enough to be woven, but thick enough to keep from breaking or being broken easily.”
“I was thinking of weaving three strands and seeing how strong it is, and going from there. If that’s not enough, then a braid of three strand-of-threes.”
Zae nodded and began sketching. “We’ll have to try it out and see how anti-magic it is. It depends on the strength of the alloy, I guess.”
The halfling beamed. “I know! I can’t wait to see it. I’ve heard it’s green. Gemstone green, not metal green or mold green. Do you think the wire will be green? Or will it be boring silver? It’s probably mostly steel and just a little skymetal. I’ll have to see.”
“Will we still go on rounds tonight?”
“Yes! I’ll take these drafts up after class and then go with Renwick to get the metal and then meet you back here? We’re all gathering at the local pub after. Bring your special someone, if you have one. Oooh. You sketch really well.”
Zae recalled Renwick admonishing the halfling to breathe, and grinned. “So, this is the single wire and this is the three-strand, and this is a net pattern that provides good coverage, and the weight can be distributed like this, so that it’s extra heavy all around the edges but it’ll still flare out when you throw it.”
“That’s really good, but do you think the weave is too open?”
Zae hastily scribbled a key down at the edge of the page, showing scale. “Not anymore!”
Next she started on her ornate design. This one was made of rings of wire instead, with some of them coated in different colors, on a backing of cloth to set it all off brightly.
“Won’t the cloth weigh it down too much?” Rowan asked, peeking over from his own paper.
“More than the weights will? Probably not. And it solves the sticking-a-finger-through problem, right?”
“I forgot about the weights.”
“We could just use a heavier metal, like make the last few rounds out of lead? That would distribute the extra weight evenly.”
“But if the whole circumference is that heavy, it’ll just plop straight down instead of unfurling. Here. What if…”
Zae decided that “what if” were her new favorite words. They were the shortest possible way to combine I value your opinion and let’s figure this out together.
12
NEW TRICKS
KEREN
Keren brought Appleslayer to Sula Charish after her morning prayers. She found the houndmaster on horseback, and Evandor sparring with her from the ground. As before, every one of Sula’s movements looked choreographed and efficient. That was the difference between a training exercise and a real fight, Keren thought. Real fights were messy and unplanned. But training had its purpose, too. The more you trained your muscles to recognize a given move and respond to it a certain way
, the easier it was to react that way instinctively in battle.
Omari and two boys in similar loose white clothing watched from the sidelines, so Keren brought Apple over to join them.
“Who’s training whom?” Keren asked in greeting.
Omari favored her with a warm smile and a half-bow of his head. “The houndmaster is training the horse. It has to learn that to be the instrument of its master, it must overcome its instincts to shy away from the clash of steel. A good lesson for us all.”
Keren wasn’t sure if he was still talking about the horse, or if he was speaking in some abstract metaphor that she didn’t quite grasp. Rather than fumble for a response, she turned to Apple, patting his head. The dog watched with rapt attention, occasionally straining forward against thin air, as if he wanted to join in the playtime but knew he shouldn’t. At the same time, Keren was proud of him for correctly assessing that there was no actual threat to any of the participants. The loll of his tongue and the perk of his ears showed that his posture was eager, not aggressive.
Evandor put up his sword to signal that the session was done. Sula ran the horse one more circuit around the room, then dismounted and handed it off to a waiting groomer. Appleslayer’s tail started to twitch, then wag fiercely, as she approached, but he stayed seated at Keren’s side until she called for him.
“It’s good for him to have the scent of horses around.”
“What will you be working on today?” Keren asked.
“We’re working on keeping focused and brave despite the moods and fears of those around you. He’s more comfortable fighting free than with a rider, but that might not always be an option for him. And he’s very attached to you and his rider. Having to press on despite an upset is something no one wants to think about, but it’s a valuable thing to learn.”
“And what will I be working on today?” Keren asked, turning to Evandor.
“Things you’ll probably find equally challenging. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready.” Keren made herself sound more confident than she felt.
Evandor and Sula clasped hands for a moment, and Evandor led Keren off to their own training room.
“I notice Sula’s fans are back today,” Keren said. “For someone who doesn’t want to train here, Omari’s around a lot.”
“She’ll be shooing them along before she starts work with your hound. She’s the only person Omari’s found who can best him barehanded. It’s only been the last week or so that he’s had this renewed interest, but we don’t mind it. The sparring practice is helpful all around.”
The smaller room he led her to was more for sitting and less for sparring. Its chairs—about two dozen of them, arranged classroom-style—weren’t luxurious, but they were well made and large enough to accommodate bodies in armor. Keren expected the chairs to face a lectern or even a worktable, but instead they faced a bookcase as long as the front wall of the room would allow, and at least as tall as she was. Books and assorted objects decorated the shelves, which were neither sparse nor overstuffed. She spotted a seashell, a candle, a ball of twine, and a toy soldier at a glance.
Evandor sat beside Keren in the front row. “You won’t need your armor today, as such, but I also don’t want to condition you into thinking that you can only work spells without it. Today we’ll be working on the detection spell again. Various items in the bookcase are spelled with different auras. Once you’ve managed to cast the spell, I’ll tell you what I want aura I want you to find for me, and you’ll point out an object that bears that aura. From here. You’ll come to hate these shelves and everything on them very soon, but in time the detection will come naturally.”
Keren had affixed her holy symbol to her wrist. Now she closed her hand around it, tracing its shape with her thumb. “I’ll try not to waste the goddess’s time. She must have bigger things to attend to.”
Evandor eyed her pointedly. “Do you think Iomedae, who once fought among us and led our order, considers training a waste of time?”
Keren lowered her gaze. “No, sir.” She allowed herself a deep breath, straightened her spine, and said, “I’m ready. Let’s begin.”
“Good. So. Detecting magic. You remember what I told you, about holding the prayer in your mind?”
Keren nodded. “I’m just not sure how to focus through the symbol.”
“Don’t worry about the symbol. The symbol takes care of itself. Focus on what’s inside you. Think of the small prayers. Think of the bridge. Make yourself the bridge from this seat to that shelf. Your anchor on the other side is an object with magic in its aura. Ask her to connect you to it.”
Keren closed her eyes, breathing and focusing. She reached for that place inside her where she’d reached for Iomedae so many times in battle. She tried to feel confident. It wouldn’t be her imagination telling her that something on the shelves was magical. It would be real, and powerful, and good.
If she could get it to work.
No, it wasn’t an it. It was a her. And even if she knew Keren was learning, was practicing—especially if she knew that—she wouldn’t take it easy on her and let her have it just because she’d tried. order was going to make sure she had proper form. Justice was going to make her earn it. Honor was going to make her appreciate it.
First she had to open herself to it, and that was a little like falling in love—a feeling she could capture, but that no one could teach her. Now she understood why Evandor had wanted her to feel vulnerable and safe. Being a soldier was about strength and discipline, but being a holy conduit was about vulnerability and trust. To let a god work through her, she first had to let that god in.
She felt something. A glimmer of something external but familiar, filling and guiding her.
It frightened her. It startled her, even though it had been exactly what she’d been trying for. The spark went out; the moment was lost.
Keren opened her eyes.
“Good. Very close,” Evandor said. “Now, again.”
* * *
Keren hated the shelves by the end of the day. She kept getting close but then losing it, like trying to reach a teacup in a too-high cupboard. Her fingertips could touch it, but when they tried to close on it, they only managed to push it just out of reach.
Evandor, of course, spun it toward the positive. “Now you know what you’re reaching for. Don’t try to pull at it. Touch it, and then stretch yourself just a little farther.”
If Keren knew how to do that, she’d have done so already. Frustration was making her short-tempered, and her temper was getting in the way of her concentration.
“I don’t suppose we could do something else for a while? Get at it some other way?”
The knight shook his head. “This is the foundation on which all the rest is built. Reaching your focus through, knowing what the divine touch feels like, grasping it and making the bridge secure. Are you envisioning the bridge?”
“I was envisioning a teacup, actually.”
“Try changing how you visualize it. A different metaphor might suit you better. Try the bridge. Or a fish: you throw out the line, be prepared to hold it fast when it catches.”
Keren tried a bridge. And a fish. And a dozen other things. Finally, when Evandor called a halt for the day, she felt wrung out. She was the fish, beached on the bridge, desperate to reach the teacup.
“It isn’t meant to be easy,” Evandor reminded her. “You’ve made good progress.”
She thanked him, even though inwardly she had already decided he was just being kind.
After a break, they discussed magical theory. Despite his earlier insistence that she master the detection first, he outlined others—spells to boost abilities in combat, or stabilize the fallen and keep them from bleeding out. On the theory of them all, she was sound. She understood what to ask for. She just didn’t seem to know how to get her question heard.
“Enough for today. You have an appointment, yes?”
“Yes. I’m supposed to meet up with Zae, and int
roduce her to Houndmaster Charish,” she said, rubbing her temples.
“Come, then. Let’s see what kind of day the slayer of apples has had.”
Zae was at the main entrance, chatting happily with a few trainees when they approached. Keren felt envy creep up the back of her spine like an insect and swatted it away. She could make polite chatter with strangers just as easily as Zae could, so it wasn’t that. It wasn’t worry that the gnome might say something inappropriate or offend with a random question, though that happened sometimes. It was the joy of novelty, and knowing she wasn’t novel to Zae anymore.
“Keren!” Zae broke off from her conversation, smiled in a way that filled her with warmth, and offered both her hands for a squeeze. Keren had noticed Evandor and Sula using the same gesture and suspected it meant the same thing: a polite substitute for when a lover’s greeting or farewell was intended but not appropriate. It was a simple thing, but it lifted Keren’s spirits immensely. Zae made the introductions to the trainees, who responded politely and then continued on their way, and Keren introduced Evandor.
“Sword Knight Evandor Malik, my trainer; Sister Zae, cleric of Brigh and rider of Appleslayer.”
“An honor, Sister Zae. Your steed will be pleased to see you. Right this way.”
The big white dog perked up at once, aware of his rider’s presence, but didn’t rise to go to her until Sula gave him permission. At her word, he bounded toward the gnome, a blur of motion. Keren wasn’t sure whether to stand behind Zae to brace her against impact or try to intercept Appleslayer and slow him down. Neither was necessary. He came skidding to a halt at Zae’s feet, nuzzled her and licked her hand. His plumed tail beat at the air, stirring up a low-lying tempest of dust, white fur, and stray bits of hay.
Pathfinder Tales--Gears of Faith Page 11